


Seven Deadly Sins

by nothelping



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothelping/pseuds/nothelping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ellana Lavellan's world comes crashing down only days before the battle with Corypheus she's determined to correct her greatest regret. Forget Solas, her bare face, her dying hand, her imminent death—a night as someone else at the Herald's Rest beckons! But her fresh start is threatened by an unexpected visitor—the very elf who broke her heart and who plans to stand in her way!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sloth

_We lost eternity_

_Time won't help when the land of dreams is no longer our journey_

_We try to lead despite the eventual failing of our markings_

_To the inevitable and troubling freedom we are committed_

_When we could no longer believe, we lost glory to war_

_When the Wolf failed, we lost the People to war_

_9:42 Dragon_

_Skyhold_

Ellana Lavellan—former First to the Lavellan clan's Keeper, now Herald of Andraste and leader of the new Inquisition, servant to the will of Mythal—stared morosely into the mirror on her vanity in her quarters and tried to find herself. But a stranger stared back at her in the reflection.

For the past twenty-four hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds she'd studied herself.

The white-blonde hair was familiar. As was the rigid hairstyle it was pulled back into—two long braids that were woven intricately at her nape, not a single hair out of place.

The eyes were familiar too—a sharp silver color that brought to mind silverite. They were her mother's eyes, or so she'd been told, and her only pretty feature. But she didn't recognize the plain face those eyes were set in.

Ellana turned her chin, studying this face. The pointed ears and wide cheekbones felt right enough, but the lack of any intricately designed tattoos was utterly foreign to her. Only days ago they'd covered her face completely, the ink black as pitch and stark against her pale skin. But now…

Thirty-five hours, ten minutes, and twenty seconds ago, she'd let the man she loved alter her face. Why? The answer was hard to find now as she stared at a face she did not recognize, feeling lost in a dark well of grief.

At the time, she'd thought Solas had wanted the marks gone, that they somehow disgusted him. She'd agreed because she wanted to please him. She wanted him to think her pretty. She wanted…

She was a fool, she chastised herself now with an angry shake of her head.

A fool with an altered face.

A fool who'd changed herself physically for a man.

Pathetic.

A pathetic fool.

With a permanently altered face.

She'd spent years designing the tattoo, at least conceptually on parchment and in her mind. She'd wanted it to tell of the elf she was—intelligent, bold, gifted with magic, at times wise beyond her years, and passionate about her people's culture. Direct and unapologetic bluntness had always been her preferred operating style over a diplomatic and civilized conversation. She wasn't above shamelessly using her power and title as a way of browbeating obstinate opponents into obeying her commands. As a result, some called her a bully and a thug.

She didn't get along well with people. She knew that. She knew she could be difficult. Apart from her unfortunate temper, she really was a nice girl, honest she was. She was just bitter about her people's plight, distrusting of humans, and opinionated. "Strong minded" was one she heard often, so was "bitch".

She didn't have any family. They'd all been killed and she'd been orphaned at the age of six after a group of human bandits had attacked her clan. She'd never had many friends either. Not even among her clan. She was First to the Keeper. She was always secluded. She studied magic and history while the others were learning the Vir Tanadhal. Even at Skyhold she was secluded. Everyone treated her differently, like she was some sort of demigod, which she wasn't. She trusted very few, couldn't find it within herself to trust humans.

Now, as she sat there at her vanity with her face completely bare, she felt so lonely she would have given anything at that moment to see her clan again. But what would her clan say if they ever saw her face?

Horror suddenly struck her.

Elgar'nan! What would the Keeper say if she ever saw him again? How was she to explain this?

_Andaran atish'an, Keeper! My face? Oh, well, you see, I fell in love with an elf who magically took the vallaslin from my face and then proceeded to shatter my heart beneath his heel. How are the halla?_

Her clan already considered her a traitor to the elven gods for being the Herald of Andraste. If they saw her face, saw how she'd washed away their blood, they'd undoubtedly exile her.

Ellana winced at that doom-laden forecast and she watched the unfamiliar face in the mirror wince back at her.

It was all Solas' fault, she thought bitterly.

In the beginning Solas had taken her under his wing as a protégé of sorts, becoming her _hahren_. But she'd instantly taken to thinking of him as more than just her Fade expert, as a figure of wisdom.

Befriending Solas had been so effortless, so simple, like breathing. Yes, Solas was fifteen years older than her and more experienced while she was a naive five years and twenty, but the age difference had never been a problem for them. They'd formed a bond of friendship almost immediately. And then they'd found there was explosive chemistry between them.

She'd fallen in love with him without any thought of a different course of action. It had just happened. She knew it was crazy but found it impossible to resist. Nothing had prepared her for the depth of it or alerted her to how vulnerable she was making herself to him.

She'd felt she'd known Solas, but now she didn't think she'd ever known him at all.

Self-loathing boiled through her. Even after two years she still knew almost nothing about him. The only thing she really knew about Solas was that he was as mysterious as he was volatile. So very, very volatile. Like magic. He seemed so refined, imperious and austere all the time, where formality and reserve as chilling as ice seemed to rule him. But then there were moments when his passion and conviction would blaze like an inferno, like when he'd burned those mages alive for killing his friend, a spirit of wisdom. Other times, when he was alone with her, he could be so incredibly tender, so honestly affectionate.

He alternated between fiery heat, lacerating cool, compassionately warm, and darkly seductive. He could switch from one mood to the other within seconds. He was an enigma wrapped in a riddle dipped in a mystery. What you saw was most definitely not what you got. But at least she saw more than most. It had made her feel special, but had also blinded her to his inevitable rejection.

She should have realized what was happening to her and been terrified by it - walking off a cliffedge and falling… and falling… and falling into something that she should have known would end up hurting her. He'd given her enough hints. But she'd hidden behind ignorance and denial, and for a few brief, blissful moments in time she had allowed him to make her feel desired and wanted and loved.

But it had all been an illusion, a chimera made of delicate crystal glass that had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

She was still laboring beneath the weight of the nullifying shock that the first man in her entire life to ever show any kind of real interest in her couldn't bring himself to love her in return.

He'd never said he loved her. _Not once._

She'd foolishly believed he'd actually cared for her, and yesterday he'd decided that he couldn't let her continue on believing in something that didn't exist. Her worst suspicions were confirmed when she'd confessed her love for him for the first time in the hope of drawing a reassuring response and he'd just stared at her, saying nothing. It had been a full-scale demolition of her inflated expectations. She'd never been so humiliated in her life.

"I'm sorry," was all he'd said in the end, quietly and so gently that she'd almost crumpled in a heap of misery on the grass, her heart ripped out and replaced with an empty cavern full of nothing but the hollowing ache of desolate rejection.

Ellana glared at the bare face of a stranger in her mirror, her eyes stinging with a hard-to-take sense of personal bitterness in knowing that he could leave her so easily, hurt her so easily, that made her wish she had never met him in the first place! Two high spots of color flared over her taut cheekbones. She would never forgive him. Not if he crawled and begged for a hundred years!

At her most vindictive, she wished she could've punched him. She wished she could've shoved him, called him a son of a bitch, and hit him. She must have been temporarily insane to have agreed to start a relationship with him!

Elgar'nan, why had she kissed him that first time in the Fade and doomed herself to this pain? Why had he encouraged it when he was just going to break her like this? Why had he kissed her with fire, with the kind of raw desperation and burning heat that could only exist in another world? Why—?

She choked on a strangled sob, then quite ruthlessly controlled herself, refusing to succumb to the intolerable ache inside her that could actually make her physically ill.

Fiercely, Ellana brushed away the tears welling in her eyes. She never cried. It made her ashamed of herself for shedding them. She had to pull her battered emotions together. She was the Inquisitor, for Creators sake! There was no love in war. She had to quit pitying herself and stop pinning for a man who had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want to be with her.

Anger suddenly rose inside of her, anger at her stupidity. She had only herself to blame. He had warned her again and again and she'd never listened – too caught up in the illusion.

Well, it was over now. There was no point continuing to want what he wouldn't give her, didn't even _want_ to give her, she reflected painfully. She only wished now that she'd kept her stupid mouth shut about loving him. At least then she could have walked away from him with some semblance of dignity intact.

At that moment a raven flew through her open window along with the night breeze. The black bird landed on the vanity in front of her. The Inquisitor removed the note from the small metal canister attached to the bird's leg.

It was a summons from Josephine.

Moments later and Ellana dragged herself away from her solitary sanctuary and stood uneasily in the throne room. She hadn't dared to so much as step out of her quarters after returning from that secluded cove in Crestwood for fear of being waylaid by people she did not want to see or talk to.

Her gaze nervously scanned the throne room—lingering on the door to the atrium. She was afraid to death that Solas would come walking out at any second to find her looking as devastated as she knew she did.

Living under the same roof as Solas since he dumped her last night had become an agonizing ordeal. No matter how hard she tried she found it impossible to rise above that rejection and behave as if nothing had happened. She just couldn't bear to be in the same room as him. She just couldn't bear to look at him or speak to him. Thankfully, she hadn't had to yet.

She sighed with relief when he didn't walk out of the atrium. Despite her anxiety, she knew he wouldn't. She'd given her companions the day off to see their family and loved ones before their fight with the Elder One. Solas had left with the others. She didn't know where he was, and was convinced she didn't much care. All she knew was that she felt very much like dying, that she was wretchedly miserable.

Moments later, she entered the Inquisition ambassador's chambers after a quiet knock on her door.

"Josephine, you wanted to see me?" Ellana found a smile from somewhere that only just made it.

The gorgeous, Antivan woman looked up from her desk and gasped in shock. "Inquisitor?! Forgive my surprise. I hardly recognize you. Your face is… I admit, I know little of their meaning, but I did not think it was possible to remove Dalish tattoos."

A sudden stillness grabbed hold of her, and Ellana felt it freeze the muscles in her face. "Most Dalish would agree with you—and see little value in doing so."

Josephine frowned. "Then how—?"

A delicate blush, barely perceptible, tinted the Inquisitor's cheeks. "It was done in a… private moment."

Josephine eyed her with something soft and tender that looked akin to pity. It made her want to vomit.

"You and Solas… something's there, isn't there?" Josephine asked with a sickening amount of empathy.

"You think so, do you?" she asked dismissively, schooling her voice to sound bored, trying to keep calm.

"Yes, you look at him all the time, and then you look embarrassed and pretend you're busy with something else." A small, sad smile pulled at her lips. "And every time you look away, he stares at you with those sad, longing eyes."

Ellana swallowed and looked away. She didn't, _couldn't_ get into that one. Not now. Not when it felt as if her whole world was balancing precariously on the edge of a great, yawning precipice.

"You wanted to see me about something?" Ellana had to force the words out of her tight throat, trying desperately to sound indifferent.

"Right, forgive my curiosity," Josephine apologized swiftly. "I asked you here because I met with all of your companions yesterday to… to make arrangements for them should the worst come to pass. The final battle with Corypheus could be any day now and it's very likely that we will lose people."

 _Elgar'nan, how depressing,_ Ellana thought glumly, her gaze returning to the ambassador.

"Have you any family I can contact on your behalf, Inquisitor, should you… you know… not survive the battle?" Josephine prompted gently.

Even though it hurt, she turned her head away in self-protection again. "Nobody."

"There's got to be somebody. Your clan? Keeper? A friend, a relative, surely?" she persisted, each words like a knife to the ribs.

"I've got nobody," Ellana muttered in a voice that wobbled in spite of all her efforts to control it. "The Keeper said I was not to return, not as the Herald of Andraste. And he wouldn't want to see me like…" Her voice faded to nothing as her hand rose to unconsciously touch her cheek bare of ink, a lump forming in her throat.

"Inquisitor, is something wrong?" Josephine asked in a small voice with troubled eyes.

"I'm fine," Ellana said as she bit the inside of her cheek. How many times had she repeated that in the last day?

She didn't look well. She knew that. There were bruises around her eyes and a white ring of tension around her mouth. Her skin was too pale, and her fingers trembled where they rested on her lap.

"Inquisitor, are you ill?" Josephine asked with concern.

 _I am_ , she thought. _Soul-sick and heartbroken._

"I'm fine," Ellana repeated, gritting her teeth. "Look, if I die fighting Corypheus tomorrow or the next day, just… I don't know… just scatter my ashes off the Storm Coast and send a note to my clan to let them know."

Josephine directed an utterly pitying look at her and Ellana escaped quickly, unable to bear the sight of it.

Minutes later, the Inquisitor found herself in the middle of her room, not remembering how she'd gotten there. But as she stood there the night stretched before her like a blank slate, shorn of anticipation, excitement and happiness.

She took a step toward her balcony when a burning pain sliced through the muscles in her left hand, like they'd been cut and were contracting along rough, bloodied vessels inside her palm. She cried out as unimaginable pain shot up her arm, her left hand sparking to life, filling her room with its eerie green light. Her other hand instinctively went under her glowing hand to clutch it close to her chest.

She managed to take a few terrible, ungainly steps before stumbling to the ground. In her hand the pain was extraordinary and violent. Her body convulsed with torment. The pain filled her fingers and palm, and it cut like broken glass, and her cries became sharp and shrill. She felt as if she were coming apart, as if the ancient elven magic was killing her for daring to use it, and in that moment she almost would have welcomed such an end.

With a pain-stilted groan she rolled over onto her back on the floor in front of her fireplace, and somehow in the cloud of pain that enveloped her, in the shroud laid over her by the magical currents that felt as though they were peeling back the skin from her bones, she realized that she was dying after all.

" _Your mark is spreading and_ _it's killing you_ _."_

Cassandra's words from so long ago smashed into her like a Winter's Grasp, chilling her from the inside out. Her stomach plummeted and her vision blurred as she looked down at her left hand, at the Mark pulsing there, remembering what Cole had said to her only a few days ago.

" _Your hand hurts, more than ever. It's slowly pulling you apart. You don't have much time. I'm sorry."_

It hit her then, like a slow, rolling tide. Her hand was dying from magic too old and too powerful for one such as her to endure.

 _I'm going to die from the Anchor or_ _Corypheus_ _._

Ellana took a deep breath and let that irrefutable fate settle in her chest. It slid down slowly like a piece of ice into her stomach where it melted and chilled her from the inside out, encasing her in ice, leaving a desolate coldness lingering in her bones.

She really did have the worst sort of luck, she thought as she managed to get herself to her feet, holding her still throbbing hand close to her chest.

_How much time do I have left to live? A month? A week? A day?_

In an instant of searing honesty, Ellana recognized that her life was not at all what she had once dreamt it would be.

She had no clan.

No Keeper.

No family.

No friends.

The few companions she had here at Skyhold were going to leave her in a day or so if they killed Corypheus to return to their own lives.

Even the Inquisition would be disbanded soon and there would be no need of her, no life for her to return to.

She had no children.

No husband.

Creators! She'd only ever been kissed three times in her life! All by Solas.

This Mark on her hand was a cancer that would expand until it killed her. She was going to die soon and the life she'd lived had been filled with nothing but duty, blood, and death and three stolen kisses.

_I'm going to die a virgin._

She could not stop the thought from coming and, once there, it left her numb and even more miserable.

She tried to move and found she couldn't—couldn't remember how to make her limbs work. Her face felt stiff and drawn downwards, her shoulders aching from the rod of tension braced across them. Her head was throbbing, her stomach was queasy, and her eyes were burning in their sockets—not tearful, but hot and dry.

Time ticked by, the quietness of the room having no effect on her whatsoever. Her hands hung limply at her sides now, her fingers feeling oddly heavy. Her mouth drooped downwards too, as though a weight was tugging on each corner.

 _You should be celebrating your freedom not wallowing in self-pity,_ Ellana thought as she continued to stare blankly at the floor _. Life is far too short for regrets. You only get one life and you've already wasted the last two years of it on him. Sometimes you have to be true to yourself to make the most of it_.

It was a foreign concept to Ellana, who had been forced to put other people's feelings and needs ahead of her own. But now that her own world had come crashing down around her she could see how being true to herself could give her the freedom to do exactly as she liked, seek out that which she'd always wanted but which Solas would never give her.

Tonight would be the perfect night to do something about what she regretted most. All of her companions were gone from Skyhold and wouldn't be returning until tomorrow. The rest of the Inquisition was still making their way back from the Arbor Wilds. The only people that were here were some of the Inquisition's agents, Bull's Chargers, and a handful of nobles and refugees. She could go to the Herald's Rest and find someone who could—

She swallowed both tears and hysteric laughter, her fingers flying up to her mouth to cover the piercing sound that escaped her.

Madness. It had to be. Why else was she standing here thinking of sneaking off to a tavern to seduce a complete stranger? She'd always wanted to lose her virginity to someone who would cherish the experience as much as her. She wanted it to be with someone she loved and who loved her back. She wanted it to mean something more than just sex. But that was just a dream, and she was running out of time.

 _Tomorrow could be the day your name is etched in stone_ , she told herself fiercely. _Why not do something about it?_

Ellana lifted her chin then to stare at her altered face in the mirror. She was changed now, wasn't she? Changed down to the bone. Solas had done that to her. Why not go all the way? Why not change entirely? How good it would feel to be someone else, especially tonight.

She watched her hands rise slowly to her hair. One by one, she pulled the pins and bands from her hair. Long, white-blonde hair fell in straight strands to her waist.

She ran her fingers through her hair and winced when she was attacked without warning by a tormentingly painful image of Solas' fingers sliding gently through those same white-blonde locks with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration in his eyes.

_Don't ever get it cut._

With his softly spoken words echoing in her mind, Ellana gathered her long hair in a fist at her nape and, with a swift swipe of her dagger, cut right through it.

Over twenty inches of blonde hair fell flutteringly to the floor around her.

She placed her dagger on the vanity, the ends of her freshly cut hair falling to just below her ears as she sullenly surveyed her reflection.

Plain and average, that was her. There was nothing about her looks that was striking or eye-catching. She was of average height for an elf with a slender figure that was lacking in feminine curves and muscle due to her being a mage and not a rogue or a warrior like the rest of her clan.

Insecurity, doubt, and hesitation assaulted her. Would she even be able to find someone else so soon? What if no one wanted her… just like Solas?

To her chagrin, it was this last thought that she worried over the most.

It was a poor position she was currently in, especially without the beauty or outrageousness that might garner a second glance. She didn't attract the opposite sex, never had. She'd never had the time nor the opportunity. Sure there had been a few hunters who'd asked her out from time to time, and occasionally she had accepted, only to discover that they didn't want her company, they wanted sex. And that was why they had approached her. She was plain and they'd undoubtedly imagined that she would be so grateful for the attention that she would fall into their bedroll on the first outing with the barest minimum of effort.

She didn't want to be plain tonight. She didn't want to be _her_ tonight. She needed a change. But she didn't know how.

Perhaps Josephine would help her.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Ellana returned to her quarters from Josephine's room. Catching a glimpse of her new self in the mirror, she did a double-take because it was like looking at a total stranger!

Ellana stated at her reflection—at her short, choppy, white-blonde hair that framed a face that was expertly made-up by the far more experienced Josephine. A willowy body encased in Antaam-saar armor, which Leliana had given to her weeks ago, that gave a tantalizing view of exposed skin. More skin than she'd ever shown in her entire life.

If the Keeper saw her dressed like this, he'd have died of horror.

 _So, do you wear it?_ she wondered pensively, eyeing the blood-red ropes that wrapped around her upper arms and crossed over her chest just above the ring velvet that covered only her breasts. Her back was completely bare, revealing an unholy amount of milky-white flesh, except for the crimson ropes that crossed over her shoulder blades. Her stomach was also completely bare—from just below her breasts to her hipbones were more red rope held up loose black pants that tucked into black boots.

 _Yes, I'll wear it_ , she thought, answering her own question.

She needed to be someone else tonight—the woman she was staring at right now—an illusion. A disguise the real Ellana could hide behind. This was the disguise that would allow her to take a chance, gather her courage, and put forth her desires. And no one would recognize her like this, not the prim and proper Dalish elf who always wore demure keeper robes that covered her from neck to ankles.

She put on her dark blue winter cloak. As she put on a pair of black gloves to hide the Mark on her hand, she realized she'd never been more anxious and nervous at the same time.

Was she about to commit a huge mistake? Could she live with herself after tomorrow? Could she really give herself to someone that wasn't Solas?

She lifted her head and squared her shoulders as if that might ease the thumping void behind her ribs. She refused to let herself think about tomorrow. Solas didn't love her, didn't want her, so it wouldn't hurt anyone if she went through with this, would it?

His own fault, she defended her reasoning as she headed down the stairs. He didn't want her, and knowing that had given her the incentive to go through with this!

Outside was bitter cold. The midnight sky was so clear, the moon rising over Skyhold, lighting its ancient stones. A fog was rolling in and carried a light mist and the scent of winter. All was quiet, save the wind, which rustled the leaves on the trees that surrounded her as she crossed the lawn toward the Herald's Rest.

The Inquisitor paused at the tavern door. Her heart pounded and deep in her stomach was a bundle of fraying nerves.

_What am I doing? Am I crazy? Am I on the edge of a breakdown to be inviting an intimacy that I don't even want?_

But she did want it. She knew exactly what she was doing, didn't she…? _Didn't she?_

For an instant Ellana had a frightening glimpse of her own emotional turmoil and knew that she was actually on the brink of an abyss, knew that she simply couldn't bear the thought of returning to her room, to the long, lonely hours of the night which stretched ahead, knew that experiencing love, anyone's love, would be a balm to her savaged ego and her shredded heart.

Ellana's hand flexed then fisted before pushing the door open, and she used that moment to take a deep breath to prepare herself for what was to come next. It didn't help much, and a fresh attack of nerves almost had her turning to run in the opposite direction before this decision of hers was taken right out of her hands. She removed her winter cloak and hung it on the coat stand in the corner by the door.

With a straightening of her spine, Ellana moved into the tavern as gracefully as always, and so well controlled that no one would have known how badly her insides were shaking or that her throat was tight with a mixture of anxiety and apprehension at what she was allowing herself to do. Yet, abhor herself as she undoubtedly did, her footsteps did not falter nor did her resolve. The stakes were too high and the rewards at the end of it too great to allow any room for doubt.

The tavern was dimly lit with candles and the air was filled with smoke and the scent of alcohol. A bard was playing her lute, but the sound could barely be heard over the idle chatter of the patrons that were lonely and scoping for that next one-night stand. No one took interest in her.

Good.

The Inquisitor's steel-colored eyes scanned the tavern, searching for anyone she knew. No sign of Solas or any of her companions or advisors. She saw some people she recognized, but no one seemed to recognize her.

Good.

She made her way through the people that seemed to collect in the middle of the room and never move. She headed for the bar, getting a quick pinch along her path but she never saw who had done it. Taking a stool at the bar, she ordered.

Instead of pouring the tea she'd ordered, the young, human, male bartender poured a shot of lime green liquid into a glass before pushing it towards her across the solid oak bar.

Ellana eyed the glass warily. "I don't drink alcohol."

"You do tonight," the bartender answered with a sympathetic look. "You've got the loneliest eyes I've ever seen."

Ellana stared down at the glass. "What is it?"

"Qunari whiskey and a few other stuff I really shouldn't mention," he replied. "It's called Qamek."

A blonde eyebrow rose. "Why do they call it that?"

"Because it will knock you on your ass and wipe out your memory." He smiled. "Drink up, rabbit."

Ellana bristled, her pointed ears burning. "Call me 'rabbit' one more time, _shemlen_ , and I'll rip one of your eyes out so you can watch me beat you with the other."

Watching the bartender scurry away fast in fear, apologizing profusely, Ellana tossed back the glass and downed its entire contents in a single swallow, feeling the alcohol burning down her throat and into her chest and stomach. She felt the effects immediately, warming and startling.

After another drink, she became more bold in looking around, but no one recognized her.

She swept the room covertly with her eyes again and was shocked to find a few lascivious looks aimed her way. She thought it would make her skin crawl like it did the few times she'd received such looks from Dalish hunters. But it didn't. It felt shamelessly, unbelievably good and like an elixir to her flaying self-esteem: a short-term anesthetic against the enormous pain waiting to jump on her—the pain she could not yet face head-on again. As long as she didn't think, let the alcohol take away her ability to feel, she could protect herself and gather the courage to follow through with this insane plan of hers.

After three more drinks, the Inquisitor decided to take action.

She stood up from her stool at the bar and turned to face the patrons of the tavern. She swayed drunkenly on her feet as she finished off her drink before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I want to lose my virginity tonight," she slurred to them. "Is there anyone who wants to… who might be…" she hiccupped. "…is there anyone who can help me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Young God by Halsey. Also, I know Solas says he loves the Inquisitor on the balcony scene, but in this story he hasn't said it.


	2. Envy

_Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil._

_He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing._

_She tied him to a tree._

_She declared that he would have to serve_   _in her bed_

_for a year and a day to pay her back_

_But as she made camp that night,_

_the dark god Anaris found them._

_Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel_

_for crimes against the Forgotten Ones._

_Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel_

_for the right to claim Fen'Harel._

_Fen'Harel called out to Anaris during the fight._

_He told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip._

_Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell._

_Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf_

_for the victory and ought to get his freedom._

_Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity_

_that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner._

_So he did not see Andruil, injured but alive,_

_rise behind him and attack with her great bow._

_Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured._

_While both gods slumbered to heal their wounds,_

_Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped._

"Are you a mage? Because you just magicked my breath away," the orange-haired, human mage standing beside Ellana slurred, spilling his mug of ale on her dark, cotton pants.

The Inquisitor's eyes rolled that particularly horrifying pick-up line away. Why? Why, oh why, had she announced to the entire bar—which was made up mostly of single men, as it turned out—that she was looking for a man and a good time tonight?

Worst. Mistake. Ever.

Damn, alcohol. It made her brain stupid.

Ignoring the mage, the Inquisitor signaled to the bartender for another drink from her perch on her bar-stool at the bar.

Picking up on her disinterest, the mage stumbled away and Ellana exhaled a sigh of relief. In the past hour since she'd announced to the bar that she was a virgin and looking to lose her virginity tonight, exactly five human males had approached her looking for an easy lay. It seemed men were less keen and more inclined to deem her easy and less desirable.

But most were turned off by her no-nonsense manner. She knew she was difficult and not one males went after. She was quick to fight and scrap for what she thought was right, and she made enemies more easily than she made friends. The remainder of the men who'd approached her were truly shameless and determined. She'd heard enough ridiculous things spoken from the mouths of men tonight to last her a lifetime…

_"Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?"_

_"Excuse me. My friend over there is a little embarrassed. He'd like to know which room is yours. He wants to know where he can find me in the morning."_

_"Hey, elf. I think you have something in your eye. Nope; it's just a sparkle."_

_"Remember me? Oh, that's right, I've met you only in my dreams."_

She waited for one to give her a thrill, to have some kind of allure.

She was still waiting.

Dammit, why was she suddenly being so fastidious? _Any_ attractive male would do. Hadn't she accepted that? Why was she being so picky?

Since she'd arrived, the tavern had gone from nearly empty to bursting with people. Was it always this crowded? She wouldn't know. She never had time to visit the tavern. Thankfully, the majority of the people hadn't been present for her thoughtless outburst of honesty earlier, which she was regretting, _immensely_. Ellana recognized a few more people now that the bar was full, but thankfully none of them recognized her with her face bare of vallaslin, her freshly cut hair, and her scandalous clothing.

"Hey there, sweeting."

Ellana's gaze shifted to the left to find a young human male standing very close to her, leaning his elbow negligently on the bar top right beside her arm. He was very sophisticated and elegant, she noted, with his high-collared white shirt and white kerchief, black coat over a red waistcoat, and black breeches tucked into tall black boots. He reminded her of Cullen with his perfectly coiffed blonde hair and pretty face with smartly groomed facial hair. He looked familiar, too. Hadn't she seen him at the Winter Palace?

"You don't know me, sweeting, but I bet you want to," the fancy human murmured to her in a low voice that was obviously meant to be seductive with a winning smile that she assumed he'd used on many women in the past with success, though she herself remained unaffected and unimpressed.

There were many scathing remarks she wanted to make, but Ellana held her tongue. Josephine was continuously scolding her about her adverse attitude with the human nobles. She knew she needed to watch what she said to the nobles who were funding the Inquisition.

With that in mind, the Inquisitor plastered on a fake smile as she turned on her barstool to face the noble. "You flatter me, sir," she managed to say with the plastic smile still in place, mentally patting herself on the back for her seemingly sincere courteousness.

Arrogantly pleased that she was reacting positively to him, the noble tucked his chin, letting a piece of blonde hair fall calculatingly into his eyes. "No, it is you who flatter us with your beauty."

Ellana's eyes rolled, she couldn't help it. "Empty compliments and needless flattery, all with one objective in mind."

He laughed, amused with her response. "So, do you have a name, or can I just call you 'mine'?"

"Oh, I don't think we should bother with names," she pointed out in a flat, discouraging tone.

Ellana then spotted the bartender and quickly leaned forward, bracing herself on her forearms on the bar.

"Hey, bartender," she slurred. "Where's that cake I ordered? It's been over an hour!"

She frowned when the bartender practically ran away from her.

To her exasperation, the human noble with the facial hair didn't take the hint and remained in her personal space. She didn't like body hair. Elven males didn't grow body hair or beards. They were strong and smooth, lean and taut, their skin like—

"How about a kiss to show you what you'll be getting if you take me to your bed tonight, rabbit?" the human male pressed relentlessly, so very sure of himself.

Ellana's pointed ears burned at the slur and his arrogance. She slashed the human a cutting look. "If you want a knee where it will really hurt, go right ahead, _shemlen_ ," she invited with a venomous little smile and scorching silverite eyes full of threat.

To her chagrin he laughed. "Such cheek in such a small package. I like it."

Deciding to ignore the noble and hope he would just go away, Ellana leaned over the wooden bar top again and shouted at the bartender that she knew was avoiding her, "Where is the cake?" She banged her palm on the wooden surface. " _Shemlen_ , you told me there would be cake! _Cake!_ "

The bartender peeked his head out from the back room behind the bar, saw her, then practically fled back into the back room.

Ellana scowled and fell back onto her bar stool, sulking. "The cake is a lie."

"I'll get that cake for you, sweeting," the noble beside her continued smoothly. "I'll get you whatever you want if you sleep with me tonight."

She shot him an irritated glance. "How about some space, _shemlen_. You're crowding me."

He smirked and purposefully leaned into her until she could smell his breath that reeked of alcohol. "Oh, come on, I just want to treat you good."

Her eyes flickered to him dismissively. "Thank you, but I'll have to pass."

"Do you know who I am?" he asked with amusement but also the hint of irritation.

"Nope," she retorted, uncaring, parading her lack of interest like a banner and wishing he would take the hint.

His shoulders straightened haughtily. "I am Baldewin Augustin, title Prince of Anderfels."

"How lovely for you," she deadpanned.

Exasperated eyes rested on her disinterested face. "Are you always this difficult to take to bed?"

"I'm just not interested in sharing my body with you," she told him honestly. "Don't waste your time on me."

He stared at her with furrowed brows for a second, his annoyance and disbelief apparent, before that annoyance vanished and a smirk split his face. "I like your spirit. Look, I need to meet with Lady Montilyet for the settling of my room for the night, but I will return as soon as I am settled for you."

Before she could deny that arrangement, the noble turned on his heel and left the room.

She frowned. That noble was even more obnoxious than she had expected him to be.

Shaking her blonde head, Ellana rested her elbows on top of the bar and rested her chin in her palm. With her other hand she dragged a pale finger across the wooden bar top, a trail of little white flowers blooming in its wake out of the surface of the wood and she smiled down at them.

 _Enchanting magic_ , Solas had once called her natural affinity for nature enchantments.

The first time he'd seen her unique ability to control nature they had been in the Hinterlands a few months after traveling together. She'd been exhausted, unused to so much travelling, and had to stop by a river. Her cheeks had been bright red and roasting, so hot from the sun, her muscles protesting. She'd clutched her staff in her hand and concentrated on the cool, refreshing water of the river and wordlessly asked it to rise so she could cool her flaming cheeks.

The water had risen at her silent command, a tendril of water rising from the water's calm surface, as if sucked upward through a straw. The vine of water had risen as if pulled by an invisible string to kiss the heated skin of her cheeks, cool and refreshing, and she had sighed softly.

She hadn't seen Solas standing beside her. She hadn't sensed his hand reaching for her face. She'd only felt the rough pad of his forefinger as it trailed lightly down her cheek where the ribbon of water had soaked into her skin.

 _Beautiful_ , she'd heard him whisper, the words so soft she'd barely heard them.

She'd turned her head to find him staring at her with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, his face soft and fixed intently on her, his finger lingering on her skin, as if he couldn't bear _not_ to touch her.

And it was in that moment that she knew she loved him.

Tragically and irrevocably.

What a truly moronic, idiotic, foolish, daft, stupid, stupid, _stupid_ thing to do, Ellana acknowledged now as she thought back to last night in that secluded cove in Crestwood where Solas had utterly destroyed her.

_In the darkness of the night with the stars over their heads, like diamonds spilled across black velvet, the magic faded from Solas' hands as he took the vallaslin away._

_The moonlight spilled a silvery light over the secluded cove, illuminating his smooth, aristocratic features and that sweet dimple in his chin._ _Like an addict, she drank in the sight of him bathed in moonlight and leaned in to breath in his scent of tea, herbs, and thunderstorms._

 _A long pale finger brushed the fine skin above her collarbone,_ _sending every nerve in her body ablaze, sharpening all of her senses._ _She could neither move nor breathe as_ _his hand moved up the line of her neck. He turned his hand over to run his knuckles softly down her cheek._

 _His expression was wistful as his eyes scanned her hair, her face, her throat_ _, like he was committing to memory every line and curve of her new face._

" _You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice like soft, warm strokes to her senses._

_The air around them seemed to still, become electric as his eyes watched her intently, searching her face for something she wasn't sure whether she was showing him or not._

_Then she found she was, because he touched his fingers to the curve of her jaw._

" _Vissanalla ma ar venin'as?" he_ _muttered almost dazedly as his head slowly, steadily lowered to hers,_ _his gaze never leaving hers_ _._

 _She felt his breath draw closer before he touched his lips to hers._ _He softly kissed her bottom lip._ _He lingered there for a moment before he pulled away ever so slightly, brushed his mouth against hers and captured her upper lip._ _His arm wrapped around her, hauling her closer, his other hand covered her cheek, long fingers slipping into her hair. His thumb stroked the corner of her mouth and her lips parted, giving him the opening he wanted to sink his tongue slowly into her mouth to brush against hers._

_Sweet Sylaise, he held her and kissed her as if he needed this, needed her._

_Too soon, his mouth broke from hers, their breaths panting over each other's faces._

_Their eyes opened at the same time and silver orbs locked onto striking blue._

_For one humming minute they stared at each other, the entirety of his attention focused on her, nothing but her, as if there was nothing else in this world worth looking at._

_But then something inscrutable passed in those blue depths_ _that she couldn't decipher_ _before_ _his eyebrows bent, his eyes searching hers almost violently, his expression one of tortured anguish._

" _I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with countless emotions. "I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again."_

 _Ice crackled down her spine._ _She blinked. Once. Twice._

 _"Wait. What?" she gasped,_ _her eyes searching his frantically for answers that he apparently didn't want to give._ _His_ _face was an unreadable mask_ _, giving nothing away,_ _but then he was not the type who wanted other people to read his thoughts_ _._

 _When he remained silent, his_ _expression_ _still shatteringly guarded_ _, the realization of what he was doing settled in._

_He was dumping her._

_The feeling that took hold... it was like being surrounded by the enemy, frightening and suffocating._

_She felt her back suddenly come up like the fur of a cornered cat,_ _bristling with hurt, anger, and confusion._

_"I let you alter my face, and just like that we're done?!" she accused fiercely with flashing eyes the color of hot metal._

_He winced. "It's not that,"_ _he whispered desolately, and the lowly uttered syllables echoed with deep-seated remorse._

" _Then what is it?!" she reproved shrilly._

_He visibly swallowed, appearing distressed, as though he were waging an internal war within his mind._

_"This is my fault," he murmured quietly. "I should have ended this long before."_

_At those words she tried to remember how to breathe against the sudden_ _sharp pain_ _in her chest that stole her breath and rendered her heart._ _Pressure behind her eyes told her tears were collecting there._ _Wetness continued to pool in the seam of her eyelids, coating her lashes and dampening the thin skin at the outer corners._

" _Lethallan_ _," he groaned softly at the sight of her tears, his voice like gravel._

_Her nose burned. Her throat closed. She was so close to the verge of uncontrollable sobbing that it hurt._

_"Don't cry,"_ _he pleaded, sounding desperate, as he_ _stepped toward her but then drew himself up short, as if remembering that he shouldn't be touching her._ _"Anything but that."_

 _She laughed without humor, the sound brittle._ _"Well, we don't always get what we want, do we?"_

 _A muffled sob broke free from her throat and, to her horror and a_ _gainst her will, t_ _ears began to fall freely._

_Anguish shadowed his face, and those absurdly long lashes lowered over his eyes, as if to shield him from the sight of her tears._

_"Stop. Please," he begged, his voice cracking on the last word. But then he seemed to clamp his lips shut, as if to stop himself from saying anything more._

_As she fought to contain the sobs that wanted to rip free from her throat, Solas just stood there, his body rigid, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, as if to stop them from reaching for her._

_She pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling like she was being gutted, and she couldn't contain the_ _broken sob that abruptly escaped her._

_His teeth clenched at the sound of agony and he averted his gaze, as if he couldn't bear to hold her tear-filled gaze for another moment._

_She drew_ _in an unsteady breath to try and control herself, her throat contracting agonizingly_ _._

 _"Don't… don't leave me," s_ _he pleaded in a small, squeaky voice._ _"Not now."_

_He let out a long, shuddery breath, but said nothing, the muscle in his jaw working._

" _Solas…" She made to touch him. He perceived her reaching hand before it could make contact. He turned his head to look at her hand in mid-air, and he took a deep step back, out of reach in more ways than one, imposing the physical separation that her every sense and urge protested._

 _He shook his head dismally._ " _This is the right thing to do."_

 _There was no mistaking the set of his jaw and the resolution in his eyes. In his gaze she saw a man doing what he felt was right regardless of who was hurt, even if it was her._ _And in his unrepentant gaze she realized that it didn't matter what she said, what she wanted, what she needed._ _His mind was made up. H_ _e was hell-bent on getting his own way, no matter what the cost or the damage._

 _She looked away from him, appalled at the emotional hurt he was inflicting on her in the name of honesty. No one had wounded her as much as Solas wounded her at that moment. He was ripping apart everything - every naïve and harmless belief, every tiny inner hope and dream she had for them._ _She'd never_ _felt so low that she couldn't feel anything but the pain piercing her insides like broken glass._

" _Don't do this." She sounded so helpless. "Don't do this to me_ _._ _I… I love you,"_ _she confessed for the first time, never having said those words before._

_The look that passed over his features was tortured._

_She blinked_ _back the sting of tears at that look,_ _her bottom lip beginning to tremble._

 _His eyes shimmered and his throat worked as he_ _slowly lifted his hand between them to cup her cheek,_ _gently brushing the pad of his thumb_ _over her bottom lip_ _,_ _as if to try and stop its trembling._

 _That tiny caress raised her every hope._ _She did the only thing she could think of that would confirm this feeling between them._ _She rose up on her toes to close the gap between them, positive that if her lips were on his that he wouldn't be thinking about leaving her._

 _The moment her bottom lip lightly brushed his upper, electricity arced between them that she felt through her entire body. She pulled back slightly and tried to slant her mouth over his, to deepen the kiss and show him why he shouldn't let this go. But his fingers tightened painfully on the nape of her neck, stilling her, stopping her from kissing him again._ _Only a hairsbreadth away, she watched him squeeze his eyes shut, felt his heated breath stutter unevenly against her lips, and saw his jaw clench in painful restraint with a slight shake of his head._

_Slowly her heels fell back to the grass and her heart fell with them. His face blurred as tears split her vision into a million fragmented parts. She blinked and hot tears tracked down her face._

_She felt his arms wrap around her waist to hold her close._ _"Ir abelas," he murmured in her ear, his voice thick with so many emotions, but it was the_ _edge of finality that broke her in two_ _._

 _Her head immediately fell into the hollow of his warm throat._ _"Don't tell me you're sorry," she uttered brokenly into his skin, her arms going around his middle. "Just… just let me keep you… please… just a little longer."_

 _She felt his fingers slid up her neck and slip into her hair to press her face deeper into his neck. She_ _heard him_ _inhale a shaky breath then felt his head turn and his warm lips press gently against her temple. A tiny shiver cleaved her body when he touched his lips to her skin. His lips lingered a few seconds before dragging into her hair._

_They stood like that for a moment before he sighed heavily, as if the air in his lungs was too heavy to hold any longer. Then he stepped back from her, letting his arms fall from her to slide down her back and then arms before falling away completely._

_She shivered, chilled right to the bone_ _as he_ _took his heat away, took everything away_ _._

 _Anger suddenly roared through her like a bushfire._ _His rejection stung, felt like an acid bath stripping the skin from her bones._ _She was so angry with him her fury made her feel nauseous._

" _Banal'abelas._ _Banal'vhenan!"_ _she condemned between clenched teeth, eyes flashing fiercely._

_Despite her caustic words, he just stood there like a granite rock battered by stormy seas—essentially untouched by her anger, her confusion, and her pain._

_She watched him turn his back to her, watched him leave her._

_She suddenly_ _felt like the world as she knew it was being burned to the ground in front of her eyes and there was nothing she could do to stop it._

 _As he disappeared from her view, she nearly doubled over at_ _the punch of rejection that hit her like a fist to the gut. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. Her stomach churned violently with the heart-wrenching feeling of being unwanted, unloved._

 _Strong pulses of searing pain ripped through her, more potent than anything she'd ever felt before._ _Her body shook with the force of her tears, her arms wrapping themselves around her middle in a desperate attempt to hold in the_ _unbearable heartache_ _._

At the Herald's Rest, Ellana felt fresh bitterness and humiliation course through her and she tossed back another drink. The blessed numbness from the alcohol began to spread inside her, but it didn't banish the anguish that persistently plagued her, the sense of despair she felt for what she'd lost.

_What did you expect, happily ever after?_

For a moment, she had. But no relationship with Solas would ever go any place where she wanted it to go, she acknowledged with agonized regret. He had already spelt that out in terms no sane woman could ignore. She got it. They were never going to happen.

And it _hurt_. Gods it hurt, knowing she wasn't enough for him when he was _everything_ to her, and there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say to change his mind. Ellana cringed as that knife slid deeper still into her unprotected heart. She didn't understand how she could hate almost as much as she loved.

The Inquisitor tossed back another drink, needing it to help dampen the dull edge of insecurity that was still holding her thoughts hostage. The bartender brought her another. Emotionally wrung out, into her cups of alcohol she sunk like a stone until the world faded and numbness smothered. In her whole life, nobody had ever told Ellana that they loved her and right now she never expected to hear those words.

Ellana was pulled from her morose thoughts when she suddenly had an uncomfortable feeling that settled between her shoulder blades, as if she were being watched. She tensed on her bar stool and looked out of the corner of her eye.

The Inquisitor was surprised to find Gatt, an elven agent of the Ben-Hassrath, leaning his shoulder nonchalantly against a wooden support pillar, his tightly-corded arms crossed over his lean chest.

And he was staring straight at her.

The young elven male was very attractive, she acknowledged, with his slender, lithe build and classic good looks, a thick mane of brown hair, pointed ears, and warm green eyes.

Ellana looked down at the little white flowers sprouting out of the bar top that she'd created and said to them, "Are you just going to continue staring at me or what?"

"That is the purpose of your attire, is it not? To draw the eye?" Gatt answered in a warm voice that rippled with easy humor.

Her lips quirked and she spun around on her bar stool to face him. "I suppose so."

His chin lowered, leafy green eyes holding hers. "Does my stare make you uncomfortable?"

Ellana decided to be very Qunari and be brazenly honest. "I'm just unaccustomed to being stared at lustfully, if at all."

"Given your title I find that hard to believe," he quipped, demonstrating that he recognized her.

Her expression fell. "I'm not my title tonight."

His expression was solemn if not a little concerned. "I assumed as much. I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to stare. You look… different than I remember." Those mossy eyes flickered over her. "You're body may have caught my gaze, but your eyes held it. They contain so much…" He waved a hand in the air, as if searching for the right word. "…maraas-taar."

Her eyebrow rose in question. "Maraas-taar? What does that mean?"

His voice turned sympathetic. "Loneliness."

Ellana leaned back to rest her elbows on the bar top behind her. "So, Ben-Hassrath—"

"Gatt," he corrected lightly with a small smile.

"Gatt," she affirmed with dancing silverite eyes. "What is a spy like you doing in a place like this?"

He smirked. "Spying, of course."

She snorted. "I'm the last person you should be admitting that to, you know?"

He shrugged. "I'm not spying on the Inquisition, if that is at all helpful."

"It is." She was surprised to find herself smiling. "I find that I like you."

His eyes glittered with mirth. "What's not to like?"

Her smile grew as she tossed her short, white-blonde hair. "And you're funny. A funny Qunari. Who would've thought?" She crossed her legs and received a much-needed injection of self-esteem when his eyes fell to stare at her legs. "But back to the question at hand. What are you doing here?"

He dragged his eyes away from her legs to brush some lint off his shoulder. "Just stopping by after some business."

"What business?" she pressed.

"Stopping an Antivan Crow from assassinating one of the kithshoks." At her look of confusion, he explained, "Leaders of the Qunari army of Seheron, like a general."

She nodded her understanding.

"I was hoping to see Hissrad, but it appears that he is away from your Inquisition fortress until tomorrow."

She explained, "I gave my companions the day and the night off to be with their friends and family before the final battle with Corypheus."

Gatt nodded, appearing impressed. "That was very generous of you, as well as wise. In one act you will obtain the loyalty of your men as well as their focus of mind and rejuvenation of body."

Ellana sighed and ran a hand over her newly cropped hair. "They also deserve some time to themselves. For two years they've given so much of themselves to this cause. They deserve a break."

"The Qun would disagree with you, but I see wisdom in your actions." He bowed his head slightly to her. "I find myself intrigued by you, as I'm sure others are as well." His eyes scanned the room. "Seeing as there are a few Qunari males here, I find I must at least warn you of something."

"What?"

He scratched his cheek. "Given your earlier announcement, I do not think a Qunari male would be the appropriate male for you tonight. The Qunari act is… unpleasant. For you, it would be worse."

Curious, she asked, "Unpleasant? Unpleasant how?"

"Deadly."

She gaped. "As in… it could _kill_ me?"

With a crooked grin, he said, "You are a very small thing. Tiny bones. Thin skin. You would need armor. And a helmet. And something to bite down on. Perhaps then you would live through the experience."

She stared at him as if he'd grown two heads. "Are you joking?"

"This would be an incredibly poor time to joke, wouldn't it?" he deadpanned, though his green eyes glinted with humor.

"Disastrously poor." Ellana smiled, and it was her first real smile in what felt like forever. And, gods, it felt bloody fantastic.

"Thank you, Gatt," Ellana murmured gratefully, suddenly overcome with emotion. "You don't know how good it feels to smile again."

He nodded once, placing a fist over his heart. "Meravas."

The front door opened and a large, grey Qunari stuck his horned-head in and uttered a few short words in Qunlat to Gatt before disappearing again.

"It seems our time is at an end. For now," he added with a dark glint in his eyes. "If I finish my… assignment tonight I will look for you." His eyes met hers. "It would be an honor to be the first male to penetrate you."

That admission was bold and he delivered it like a sworn statement of intent. Ellana gaped at Gatt, blushing to the roots of her hair, shaken by his frankness and unsure of how best to deal with it. She was suddenly nervous about how terrible she was at flirting.

Gatt chuckled at her response to his bold statement. "Panahedan, little one. Taarsidath-an halsaam."

And with that Gatt pushed off the wooden beam and headed for the door. Her gaze followed after him, the smile still on her face, his interest giving a boost to an ego that had been sadly flagging. Ellana laughed quietly to herself at that little exchange, wondering if she would see him again tonight.

_Is Gatt the one?_

She found him attractive. She believed she could trust him, despite his occupation. She didn't think he would hurt her. Maybe Gatt _should_ be her first. She believed he could give her what she'd been waiting for all these years, if she put aside her pride long enough to enjoy him for one night. Afterwards, leaving wouldn't be painful. It may be awkward, but it wouldn't be difficult. In fact, she believed their parting would be friendly.

But her thoughts acquired an edge of panic, for suddenly it seemed unbelievable to her that she was actually considering going to bed with a male she barely knew. If she slept with Gatt, it would be in body rather than spirit because she loved another man. That struck Ellana as a deeply unnatural, distasteful and wrong.

Frowning, she turned on her bar stool to face the bar again and ordered another drink.

"Aneth ara, stranger," came a friendly and cheerful male voice to her left.

Ellana turned her head to find Loranil sitting on the bar stool beside her. He was the young Dalish elf she'd recruited as an agent of the Inquisition from the Dalish camp located in the Exalted Plains. He had a friendly smile and a sweet disposition that was most welcome.

"Ara seranna-ma," he said in perfect elven, and then smiled shyly at her. "I don't mean to be rude, but boy, it sure is nice to see another Dalish face." She watched him merrily order a traditional elven drink from the bartender who still appeared afraid of her. "You're obviously Dalish, although I don't remember ever seeing you before. Are you a new agent of the Inquisition?" Loranil asked, clearly not recognizing her.

"I've been around," she answered evasively but with a welcoming smile, enjoying his company.

An appealing grin adorned his adorably boyish features, crinkles forming in the green vallaslin on his forehead. "Truly? That's odd. I would've remembered seeing an elf as little and cute as you around Skyhold before."

Her lips quirked. "Like an infant?"

"Yes. I mean no!" He quickly ducked his head to hide his blushing cheeks from her.

Ellana watched Loranil lift a glass from the bar counter and she lowered one hand to grasp her own, silver eyes wide with fascination on his young face. Did he really think she was cute? She so much wanted to believe he was sincere, for she was more used to being told she was strong, opinionated, and "elfy" than cute. Her fingers tightened round the tumbler and she drank even though her head was already swimming.

"You know, people generally wear shoes around here," a human male muttered scathingly from the table behind them. Ellana and Loranil both turned to find a human male staring pointedly at Loranil's bare-feet with disgust.

"Really? What a strange custom," Loranil answered kindheartedly.

Ellana, however, bristled at the human's blatant contempt and said gravely, "Among the Dalish, it's a mortal insult to cover your toenails in the presence of a superior." Ellana's sharp silver eyes ran over the human male, then she raised an eyebrow to demonstrate she'd assessed the man's worth and found it lacking. "Perhaps you should remove your shoes the next time you speak to a Dalish, _shemlen_."

The human gaped at her, like a fish. "You're kidding. Elves are not superior to humans, everyone knows that!"

She looked at the human with a glare meant to singe."We elvhen may be mere insects to you, _shemlen_ , but so are wasps. A wise man avoids poking their nest."

The man's face was bright red with outrage and he stood up so fast he almost fell over. "How dare you speak to me that way!" the man yelled at her. "I'll speak to Commander Cullen about this insult and have you thrown out of Skyhold!" And with that he stormed out of the tavern.

"Mythal's bosom, I can't believe you said that to him!" Loranil exclaimed with something akin to hero-worship.

Ellana grumbled into her drink, "He deserved it."

Loranil's expression fell and he chewed on his lip. "I hope you don't get into trouble because of him."

Ellana snorted. That human would be stunned dead if he knew who she really was.

Loranil turned a sunny smile on her and uttered excitedly, "I hear there is going to be an Arlathvhen soon in Halamshiral. A large one."

Ellana's pointed-ears perked up. "A gathering of the clans? How do I not know about that?"

"Because it's a secret," he whispered excitedly. "The rumor is that the elves are calling for mien'harel."

Her eyes widened with disbelief. "Mien'harel?"

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "The rumor is an agent of Fen'Harel is leading an elven rebellion against the humans!"

Her brows furrowed at that news. "An agent of Fen'Harel?"

How interesting. She couldn't help but be happy about that. Their people were great once. They were now a people associated with poverty, crime, barbarism, and prostitution. They fought amongst themselves, separated and divided, impoverished outcasts that lived like nomads. The Dalish lived on, but only as a fragment of what they once were, never wondering what they could've been, never fighting back. They just went on living, passively accepting their fate, happy to surrender. Perhaps this agent of Fen'Harel would team up with Flemeth, the vessel of Mythal, and together they could inspire the elves to come together to reclaim their heritage.

"Good. We should fight." Her silverite eyes flashed fiercely. "We are the last elvhen, never again will we submit."

Half an hour later—after they'd spent thirty minutes talking, laughing, and drinking—Ellana giggled until she nearly fell off her bar stool, their excessive drinking taking its toll. Her cheeks were a deep red from the alcohol and her giggling fit as she swayed on her bar stool.

"Two more drinks!" Loranil called out to the bartender with a sweep of his hand that knocked over their multiple empty glasses on the bar top in front of them.

"I have a very swerious… sterious… serious question to ask you," she slurred after collecting herself somewhat and pointed a swaying finger at her drinking partner. "Which would you rather have? A baby griffon, or a pet dragon?"

"Ugh… I don't know." Loranil returned his eyes to hers and smiled broadly, looking more than a little drunk. "That's a very odd thing to—"

"I'd definitely have a griffon." She hiccupped. "You can't really pet a dragon can you? They're all scaly."

Loranil laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. "Sweet Sylaise, you've thought about this before, haven't you?"

She snickered, rolling her eyes. "I think of lots of things."

Laughing with Loranil she tossed her hair loving how short it was, light and free, like how she felt right now. As the night went on it became easier to forget about her heartache. Easier to laugh, to joke, to smile. She found herself genuinely enjoying her time. She felt as though a little bit of her heartache had been lifted, as though Loranil was some sort of guardian sent to keep her nerves at ease.

Loranil suddenly jumped to his feet, a frightened look on his face. "Oh, no, I forgot to lock up the armory! Commander Cullen's going to kill me! I'll be right back," he exclaimed as he rushed out of the tavern.

Her head whipped to the side to watch him leave and the movement caused the room to tilt. Strange. Rooms rarely tilted. She looked at the glass in her hand. What number was this? Her fifth? Tenth?

A wave of nausea hit her and she stood up with difficulty and headed off in the direction she had last seen Loranil.

Someone hit her as she veered left. Now that she was standing and moving, the room was tilting a bit more. Very unstable floors.

She stopped for a moment in the middle of the room and narrowed her eyes as the expanse of room filled with bodies before her. When did the tavern become so full? Why was it so damn hot in here? She needed to get to that pillar over there near the door. A mirror? She squinted. No, a plaque. If she headed straight for it, she could pause there and then figure out her next course of action.

She managed to take two steps when there was a brief lull in the bard's playing, the music fading away, and a throaty burst of male laughter splintered through the covering buzz of drunken conversation in the tavern.

Her head jerked round on a chord of recognition too instinctive even to be questioned. In appalled stasis, she froze, her pupils dilated by shock.

There, in the back corner of the tavern, was Solas.

With a wolf's jawbone on a leather strap hanging loose around his neck and the collar of his tunic open at his pale throat, Solas stood comfortably at the back of the tavern. He stood taller than any elf she'd ever seen, every angle of his frame stamped with dignity and authority. His eyes were pure azurite beneath long black lashes. The lean, lithe build beneath his form-fitting white tunic was a testament to his elven ancestry. His facial bone structure was finely sculpted, the strong blade of his nose bisecting high cheekbones that might have been chipped out of solid ivory and the set of his pointed ears gave him the appearance of a feral wolf.

Her traitorous eyes wandered helplessly over every inch of him.

He looked quite painfully beautiful.

 _Elgar'nan_ , he wasn't just beautiful, he was dangerously so.

She snatched in a ragged breath, wildly aware of the treacherous heat spreading through her limbs. Unwanted longing was in her like a dark enemy he had implanted, a hot, feverish intoxication of every sense that left her reeling.

Dammit, why did he have to be so damn beautiful?

She quickly looked away from him to stare bleakly down at the floor because looking at him now hurt just too damn much.

She knew he was bad for her. But that didn't mean that she had learned how to stop craving what was bad for her…

No, she begged mentally. She didn't want him to affect her like this. She didn't want him to affect her at all. He wasn't going to do this to her again, she swore with inner vehemence. She would make herself feel nothing, absolutely _nothing_ for him. After all, nothing was what he deserved.

But curiosity was getting the better of her. What was he doing here? He was cool, polite, distant, formal, and not the type to unbend with the type of people who hung out at taverns.

Unable to stop herself, her curious gaze returned to him like a lodestone. It was only then that she realized he wasn't alone. Solas was standing in front of Dalish—a stunningly gorgeous elven mage who was a member of Bull's chargers.

Dalish was leaning back against a wooden support pillar, Solas right in front of her. They were standing close together, _very close_ , whispering to each other, smiling and laughing.

The roaring in her eardrums drowned out everything else. She could not believe at first, did not _want_ to believe that what she was seeing was real. But it _was_ real. Solas was standing on the other side of the room with a pretty, young elf looking all smiling and doe-eyed at him.

Ellana quickly looked away, a disarming sense of anxiety and dismay flooding through her veins, tensing her muscles, making her mind race. Had he seen her yet? Did he even recognize her? Had he noticed her when he'd walked in and was just indifferent? Was he staring at her this very instant or was he too taken by Dalish to have noticed anyone else?

Biting her lip, she looked up again to see Solas was still talking to Dalish. She couldn't take her eyes off the other woman. With her fabulous platinum blonde hair falling round her narrow shoulders like a silk curtain, and her pale blue eyes slashing a bright slice of color in her flawless face, Dalish's glowing perfection took her breath away.

Dalish released a musical laugh, and she flirted with Solas by batting her eyelashes and cocking her head coyly. And he was being charming, bending his head toward her and giving her his undivided attention, smiling at her.

Ellana watched Solas' face with grim speculation, saw that smile that he gave Dalish as the one she'd always believed was reserved exclusively for her—and discovered that it hit her rather hard to know another woman warranted such tenderness.

Dalish leaned in to speak to him, her hand pressing against his chest, leaving it there as he bent to put his mouth to her ear in response to whatever sweet, seductive words she was saying.

The little flirt, Ellana thought scathingly. And worse—he was enjoying it! Solas didn't move away from Dalish when she touched him and the viscous, scolding hurt and jealousy that knifed through her was sharp enough to make her stomach knot.

Her stomach heaving, Ellana put a hand to her belly in reaction, resentment turned into something really ugly that burned like acid in her gut. Seeing Solas with another woman. Solas flirting with another woman. Solas wanting another woman, maybe even leaving with another woman…

She turned her back to them in disgust. Cold, she felt icy cold, and nothing seemed to be functioning. Heart, lungs, the blood in her veins—they'd gone very silent and still, as if they were gathering themselves for much need self-protection.

Blindly, she forced her feet to take her back to her bar stool where it seemed safer and wouldn't have her standing in the middle of the room like an idiot.

She fell back onto her bar stool as if in a daze. She would not be jealous. Jealousy turned good people ugly. She would not be jealous. She would not care. Despite the firm resolve in her head, she was too damn aware of him standing across the room like a dark shadow threatening to completely envelop her.

To her horror, she found herself looking over her shoulder to satisfy her curiosity. Solas seemed to sense the precise moment that her eyes came to rest on him because—despite the fact that he seemed engrossed in whatever the woman in front of him was saying to him—his head lifted and his sharply intelligent eyes made an impatient scan of their surroundings.

Her palms began to sweat while she watched his gaze go slashing right past her. Then it stopped and came swinging swiftly back again. She watched his keen eyes narrow on her sitting there at the bar, watched him go perfectly still. Several heartbeats later, those blue orbs slowly widened and she watched the shock of recognition stamp the pure lines of his face.

Shock-darkened eyes seemed to sharpen as they moved with an excruciating slowness from the top of her newly cut hair to the boots on her feet before crawling slowly back to make contact with her eyes. Their eyes locked. She saw tension, a restlessness so severely contained that it flicked along his chiseled jawline, as if he was clenching and unclenching his teeth behind his lips.

She fidgeted uneasily in her seat under his intensely penetrating gaze, and the fact that she'd managed to move seemed to prompt him to do the same. With his eyes locked on hers, Solas stepped around Dalish and began walking straight towards her in a strange, slow, measured way that made her want to run and hide.

He stalked toward her in silence, his eyes refusing to release hers. Sweat began to break out all over her. The room began to fade, tunneling inwards in ever-decreasing circles until the only the two people left in the tavern seemed to be herself and him. And the closer he came, the more tight and airless the tunnel began to feel, until she was almost suffocating by the time he was only ten short feet away.

She spun on her bar stool to turn her back to him in desperate need of evading his gaze. She rested her elbows on the bar, eyes fixed on the wooden surface, her throat tight, her muscles clenched taut.

A shadow fell across her. Solas remained silent, an announcement unnecessary. His mere presence demanded attention and her every nerve-ending leapt into an instant overload of shattering physical awareness. She felt him, felt his presence behind her, and knew he was mere inches away—she could feel him breathing.

"Garas quenathra?"

A slight quiver worked through her. No one spoke the words of her people like Solas did. Cultured, smooth, rich, like the most exquisite melted chocolate, uttered in an accent she'd never heard before. It was as if he'd invented the words and she was hearing them spoken as they ought to be - the syllables rolling like drops of water off his tongue, not choppy and dissonant as the Dalish spoke them. She couldn't help but wonder if the proper elvhen accent and pronunciation was just another thing the Dalish got wrong.

"I said, what are you doing here?" Solas enquired smooth as glass with a definite edge when she failed to answer him.

She tensed but stared straight ahead. "I could ask you the same."

He remained conspicuously silent. She heard the wooden floorboards squeak under his weight as he stepped closer to her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood as displaced air moved between them. It brought him closer. She could feel his gaze on her, felt the heat of it, burning away every layer until she felt raw and exposed.

Fighting hard not to slip by him and leg it out, She turned around slowly on her bar stool, her heart galloping in her chest. She was momentarily stunned to find him standing so close, almost on top of her, her knees almost touching him.

Defiance made her tilt her chin. Her eyes slowly dragged up his torso, his throat, his dimpled chin, creeping higher. Her breath caught when she collided with eyes that were so severe and piercing that she flinched under their unrelenting intensity.

The silence pulsed. He possessed a raw kind of energy that seemed to be sucking up all the oxygen. He towered over her from where she sat on her bar stool, black lashes partly obscuring blue eyes that searched hers fiercely, burrowing, as if trying to get inside her head.

"Garas quenathra, lethallan?" he repeated, his voice clipped and impersonal.

She hated it. Hated seeing him revert to treating her like a stranger. Icily reserved, remote, and austere, like an unfeeling block of superior ice, as if everything they'd shared in the past two years was the product of her imagination alone.

She flashed him a sickly, sweet smile as she replied with saccharine sweetness, "I'm a patron of this lovely tavern, same as you."

His voice grew darker. "This is not a lovely tavern. This is a dirty place where men come to get drunk out of their skulls and then take advantage of lonely women."

She bristled, outrage overcoming self-pity. "I'm not lonely."

He shuffled closer to her until his legs brushed against her bent knees on her bar stool. "You're hurt, angry, and restless. But most of all you're lonely."

She turned very pale at that disturbingly accurate assessment. "I'm not lonely," she repeated in a strained voice.

"Seeking adventure, then." He uttered in a tone of undisguised condemnation. "Or perhaps seeking attention."

His twisted smile seemed to mock her. Seeing him dare to mock her by insinuating that this whole night was a seriously immature cry for attention was the cruel equivalent of a knife plunging beneath her tender skin.

"If I am seeking attention, Solas, it's most certainly not yours I'm after," she quipped with rich scorn. "Just as you weren't seeking mine a few minutes ago."

His twisted smile vanished, his striking features broodingly tense. It made her feel good to wipe that derisive smile off his face.

"How is Dalish?" she asked thickly, silently cursing her voice for not coming out even and impassive like his. "She looks—happy."

"She is well," he stated in a tone of polite tact, but his pale skin was stretched taut over his hard bone-structure. "What have you done to your—?"

"I've been drinking this wonderful green liquid," she quickly cut in.

His eyes fell to the drink in her hand. She could see cold annoyance overpowering his vast tolerance. "Yes, I can see that. But why—?"

"It's called Qamek because… because… damn it, I can't remember why they call it that, but… well…"

"I think you've had enough," he stated in silken censure, his face set with rigid disapproval.

"I respectfully disagree," she replied with a syrupy sweet smile that seemed wasted on the granite-faced older elf. "It's my happy drink. I like it. It makes me smile and I'm more happy when I'm drinking it. I—"

He released his breath with impatience. "You're drunk."

Picking up on the hint of reproach in that statement, Ellana stiffened even more. "So?"

"You've had enough."

"What do you care? I'm not yours anymore," she hissed back faster than a striking rattler. "You made that perfectly clear last night and tonight. So, what is she to you?"

"She?" He scrutinized her with narrowed eyes.

"Dalish, the blonde," she specified with lancing contempt.

White tension hardened his jawline. "You're jealousy is not—"

A discordant laugh fell from her lips to punctuate through his words. "Jealous? You are mistaken. I pity her."

He drew himself up to his full height with all that fierce pride in his bearing, sheer outrage glittered in his condemning gaze. "I should be honest with you, _vhenan_ —"

"Don't call me that," she hissed with condemnation. "You use it like it means something and it doesn't."

Color sprang up over his cheekbones, his eyelids half-masking what she'd glimpsed as a flare of emotion. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something to refute that, and she waited with a treacherous amount of hope. But he sealed his lips again, and simply nodded once, expressively conceding the point.

Disappointment flooded through her. She just needed to breathe but he won't let her. He took up everything. He was invading everything. Needing space from him, she slipped off her bar stool and swayed on her feet. He automatically reached out to steady her and she shrank back from him so urgently that she almost toppled over.

"What was that for?" he asked with irritation, reaching out to steady her again, but she pulled away instantly.

"I don't want you touching me," she choked with an awful little shudder as she caught the scent of his skin and backed into the wooden bar behind her.

He tucked his chin, his eyes flashing dark navy at her insult. "That's not what you were saying last night."

A violent jolt of rage rocked her at that ruthless retaliation and his cruelty to mention the humiliation she had tried not to think about. "Yes, yes, go on! Rub salt in my wounds!" she snapped.

A lengthy silence stretched as she struggled with her temper. She felt her skin heat with self-conscious color at his retaliatory reminder. Her eyes touched on his and fled again, her hands clenching because she could not shake free the shameful recollections of last night. She had virtually begged for him to stay with her. Pathetic. Those images smarted in her memory like an open wound and an unwelcome reminder of her weakness and stupidity.

"Lethallan…" he uttered in a throaty voice.

She kept her eyes firmly on the corded muscles of his throat, watching the strong beat of his pulse but she could feel the searing appeal in his gaze sting into her cheeks.

"Please look at me." It was a gruff plea that twisted at something wretched inside her, but one she refused to comply with, shaking her head.

She heard him exhale sharply. "I apologize, _vhen_ … Ellana," he corrected himself harshly. "I haven't behaved very well," he muttered in a harsh driven undertone and her head came up. His eyebrows were drawn tight and low over hooded eyes. "I'm just so… _shocked_ to see you here and—"

"There you are, sweeting. Lady Montilyet has given me a room in the main keep with a large bed that is ours for the night," Baldewin Augustin, Prince of Anderfels said from her left.

Her heart stopped beating, Baldewin's words sending the ground beneath her feet crashing away. Solas stood utterly still, his face as cold and hard as a diamond with no discernible expression. Only the hand visibly coiling into a fist at his side told her he was affected.

Unaware of the sudden tension his presence had caused, Baldewin walked up to where she stood with her back against the bar and gripped her arm.

"Everything's prepared for us, sweeting," Baldewin murmured with a lascivious grin. "Let's get out of here."

Solas didn't even acknowledge Baldewin. He continued to stare intently at her for several seconds, only breaking his gaze from hers to look down at Baldewin's hand where it was touching her.

"What is this?" Solas uttered in a gritty drawl.

"Will you let go of me, please?" Ellana asked Baldewin in a small voice though her eyes remained locked on Solas.

To anyone else Solas would appear composed, careful not to give any reaction in his facial expression. But she saw through that calm, cool facade. It suddenly hit her that Solas was blindingly angry about something. It showed in the cording of the muscles in his neck, in the way his every muscle was being severely controlled, in the clenching of his jaw, the sudden twitch of that little nerve beside his mouth, the banked fires in the blue of his eyes. He was so… _angry_.

"What have you got to be angry about?" she demanded furiously.

"This doesn't concern you, elf," Baldewin snapped at Solas. "This elven whore wanted a man for the night and she's going to get one. _Me_. Find your own!"

"She asked you to release her," Solas said with quiet lethality. "If you don't, I'll start breaking your fingers until you do."

Ellana was taken aback by that remark and its rather possessive baritone.

"You're all talk. I'm the Prince of Anderfels. You can't harm me, elf, even if you are the Inquisitor's pet," the noble scoffed. "You can't lay one finger on me." Ellana could tell the human male was trying to sound intimidating, threatening even, but his voice was too high-pitched to pull off the tone he was aiming for.

"Want to find out?"

Her insides turned to ice. Solas' voice had done what the human male's could not - a terrifying low growl that could almost be felt more than heard.

Solas was staring down the human, wearing an expression she had never seen on him before and hoped to never have turned on her. A black fury was etched into every hard line of his face, giving him an undeniable air of danger, those blue eyes dangerously sharp, mere slits.

She was shell-shocked by the barrage of emotion Solas had just shown, and she surveyed Solas with as much unrestrained incredulity as she would have shown a darkspawn that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in a dress dancing the Remigold across the tavern.

"Don't mind him, rabbit. Let me escort you to my room. I can give you what you want," the noble practically purred and she recognized the salacious look in his eyes. "Let's go."

She stiffened when she felt a hand touch her bare skin, low on her back. The noble opened his mouth to say something else, but never got the chance.

Acting on instinct, she grabbed the human by the wrist and twisted his arm behind him. The man cried out in pain as she rammed her elbow into the back of his neck, slamming his face into the wooden bar-top.

"I am no whore, _shemlen_ ," she hissed in his ear, "and I already told you I did not want your company for the night. No is my answer. Do not try again."

She wrenched the fingers of the offending hand. The man howled in pain, struggling against her. She let up and the man skulked away, cradling his injured hand, spitting curses and threats at her as he went.

She turned back to Solas to find him unnervingly close to her. His teeth ground together as his eyes lifted to focus on her with a fierce intensity that made her feel horribly like a condemned apostate in the Kirkwall gallows.

Her chin lifted in a defensive gesture. "I can look after myself, Solas. I don't need you to feel responsible for me," she muttered with censure. "Ma banal mir hahren."

"I _am_ your keeper, _da'len,_ " he corrected her.

"I am _not_ a child," she fired back at him with ringing vehemence at that label.

"Then stop acting like one," he snapped.

She stiffened and reddened as if he had slapped her on the wrist for bad behavior.

"A word," he told her in a raw, gritty undertone.

She settled blistering silvery-grey eyes of condemnation on him. "Frankly, Solas, we have nothing to discuss."

The flash that kindled in his eyes was down right dangerous. " _Now_."

 _Oh, let's not bother!_  she thought with silent resentment as his hand came to her waist, his fingers settling in an intimate curve of her ribcage as he propelled her forwards towards the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ir abelas, vhenan: I'm sorry, my heart.
> 
> Vissanalla ma ar venin'as?: What are you doing to me?
> 
> Maraas-taar: Loneliness.
> 
> Hissrad: "Keeper of Illusions;" liar. Iron Bull's name while he was stationed in Seheron.
> 
> Meravas: "So shall it be."
> 
> Taarsidath-an halsaam: "I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect."
> 
> Mien'harel: Rebellion
> 
> Garas quenathra: "Why are you here?/Why have you come?"
> 
> Ma banal mir hahren: You are not my keeper.
> 
> Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Gasoline by Halsey.


	3. Gluttony

_The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast._

_He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength_

_and knew it would slay him if he fought it._

_So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky._

_The villagers asked Fen'Harel_

_how he would save them, and he said to them,_

" _When did I say that I would save you?"_

_And he left._

_The great beast came into the village that night_

_and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders._

_It came to the children and opened its great maw,_

_but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky_

_into the great beast's mouth, and killed it._

_The children of the village wept for their parents and elders,_

_but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks,_

_for he had done what the villagers had asked._

_He had killed the beast, with his cunning,_

_and a slow arrow that the beast never noticed._

Reluctantly, the Inquisitor took another step on the stairs in the Herald's Rest. The male hand at her back was inexorable, making her feel like a convicted criminal being brought to the hangman's noose as it forced her upwards. Resistant and tense as a bowstring, he forced her feet to carry her up the steps to the third floor where Cole usually visited.

Solas remained behind her the entire time. His hand burned into her bare skin, the Antaam-saar armor she wore providing no barrier. Never had she been so tense. Her back hurt with the strain of her rigid stance.

The moment they reached the third floor and found it empty of any patrons, she spun round, her short hair flying back from her face.

Solas stood still as a statue at the top of the stairs, his back to the tavern, wearing an impenetrable mask. It was dark on the top floor, the glow of the single lamp on the wall causing shadows to dance across those sharply chiseled features that were utterly unrevealing, disturbing her to no end.

When his eyes locked on hers they were hard and accusing. "Explain yourself," he ordered rigidly in an even voice. "What was all that about?"

"Why don't you go first?" Jabbing a finger into his chest, she glared up at him. "What were you doing with Dalish? She had her hands all over you!"

"Stop yelling at me," he warned quietly, his irritation slipping through that infuriatingly calm veneer he'd been wearing.

"I'm not yelling at you, I'm telling at you!" she countered angrily.

He looked to the ceiling, as if searching for patience. "You're upset. I get that. But that doesn't—"

"You're damn right I'm upset!" She was furious that he was talking down to her as though she were being irrational. She was mad and she hated it because to get mad you had to care and she was not supposed to care. "Why were you with her?!"

He had an unreadable look on his face while he stared at her with guarded eyes, hiding his thoughts behind them. "I was asking Dalish for help."

Ellana blinked, not expecting that response. "Help? What kind of help?"

His face, his eyes, his expression were unfathomable as he replied with a reserved response, "I was seeking her… magical assistance on a matter."

"It looked more like you were seeking to get her on her back!" Ellana was so worked up with anger that her voice rose to a shrill crescendo, his unapologetic insolence outraging her.

He shot her a veiled glance. "You of all people should know that appearances can be deceiving."

"So, what? You were laying on the charm to get her to do something for you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

He studied her through black lashes lush as silk fans. "Believe what you want."

"Why didn't you ask me for help, huh? I'm a mage."

With hauteur, he elevated a sleek brow. "I have my reasons and they are private."

Royally snubbed, she reddened. "Why all the secrecy? What are you up to?"

Though his expression remained virtually unreadable, his eyes became vivid flashes of ice blue against his smooth, pale skin. "I answered your questions, now you answer mine," he delivered with lethal cool. "Tell me about that human male that you were—"

"He was no one," she remarked dismissively.

"He wanted you, just like every other man here." Though he tried to hide it, she saw the flare of possession in his eyes. "He was going to try and leave with you."

She folded her arms in a jerky motion, her grey eyes gleaming with contempt. "I was actually about to get rid of him when you decided to intervene and treat me like a toddler!"

His jaw worked back and forth, as if irate. "You're blaming me when it's your behavior that is a study in contradictions?"

In a frustrated movement, Ellana pushed her hair off her brow. "What does that mean?"

"At times you seem wise beyond your years, at others merely an attention seeking child!" he slashed down at her. "I am capable of making allowances for your understandable anger, but your actions tonight have been reckless and juvenile. I expected more from you. I am disappointed you—"

"You had no blasted right to involve yourself in my business! And you damn sure don't have any right to object to another man's interest in me! No right at all!" she hissed back at him full volume. She was so mad she was vaguely surprised that the top of her head didn't blow off.

A tension filled silence followed that remark. Solas stood stiff, not moving a muscle beside the tiny muscle that pulled taut at the corner of his compressed mouth.

She watched his blue eyes chill to freezing, like the middle of a snowstorm, and his voice swirled downward into a bitter cold murmur, "Are you suggesting that I should have ignored the fact that you asked him to release you and he refused, knowing full well he intended to climb inside your body the moment he took you away from here?"

Her hands shook with the force of her anger. "Gods, you're like a mabari with a bone you buried. You had no interest in that bone until somebody else dug it up!" she accused fiercely.

She heaved in a breath and it was only then that she realized she'd gotten in his face to throw those barbs, and her face was now only inches from his. Her anger faltered when his subtle, masculine scent enveloped her - magic, herbs, thunderstorms, and something entirely and uniquely _him_.

His lips were parted, his breath hot on her face, an audible fracture in his breathing pattern as he watched her, his eyes quiet and intense. Steady. Devouring hers as the silence stretched between them. Slightly, so slightly, his body seemed to shift subtly toward her and she felt her own treacherous body lean into his, his pull on her too magnetic to resist.

 _Brain!_ her inner voice of sense shouted inside her head in warning as she felt herself being drawn into him. _Brain, get back here right this minute!_

She suddenly felt too hot, her chest too tight, and she called herself ten kinds of fool. She tried to ignore the attraction that vibrated between them but she could no sooner ignore it, or him, than she could ignore her own need to breathe.

 _Don't respond to him,_ she told herself resolutely. _He's pure poison and heartache in a very dangerous package._

She quickly forced herself to step away from him, a measure to try and preserve her dignity, humiliated by her response to him after he had rejected her outright. He wasn't suffering with this unbearable ache like she was, she reminded herself, mortified by her own foolish susceptibility.

She moved tautly to stand by the railing by the stairs, looking down into the busy tavern. She had to fight hard to keep her emotions in check. This was not the time to remind him of the power he still had over her, mentally and physically. She had to be strong, to show him he hadn't destroyed her life with his rejection last night. She had to show him she wasn't bothered, that she didn't need him. She had to show him he meant nothing to her now.

"What game are you playing at?" he drawled darkly.

"Game?" she asked without turning around, but wholly conscious of his presence with every fiber of her wretched being.

"With the human noble… you did that on purpose," he accused softly. "Some kind of underhanded, specious, feminine manipulation being used to get my attention and—"

"Excuse me?" she spat angrily, spinning around to face him. The rigid expression he wore made the smooth planes of his face appear hard and forbidding, his narrowed eyes slivers of glittering cobalt.

"I know what you're trying to do. It's not going to work." His voice had dropped in pitch, disturbingly gruff. "I shouldn't have let it happen in the first place. It won't happen again, no matter how you look."

She bridled at the soft note of silken derision that laced his accented drawl and threw her head high. "What's wrong with the way I look?"

He ran his gaze from the top of her short, choppy new hairstyle to her perfectly made-up face down to her outfit that was far more feminine and revealing than anything she'd ever worn before. He took it all in without showing a single hint of what he was thinking behind his urbane, inscrutable mask.

Then, without any warning, his sooty lashes flickered, and there was a flash of emotion before he severely dismissed it again.

Hurt. It startled her because she was sure she saw hurt in that expression! But why should he be hurting because she was here like this, different, yet still the same Ellana inside. But maybe that was in and of itself hitting his conscience, because he must know that his rejection of her was part of the reason why she made herself different.

"I wish you would stop staring at me," she muttered tightly.

"What did you expect?" he drawled flatly. "You have altered yourself out of all recognition."

She stiffened at his criticism. "You don't recognize me? Perfect. Now you know what it feels like to look at someone you thought you understood, and realize you never knew them at all!"

Something she couldn't read flickered through his eyes. Then his gaze shifted to her hair. "You cut it. All of it."

Involuntarily, she felt her every muscle tighten. Like a mesmerized statue, she watched his hand reach out across the great divide that separated them and flick one short strand and then linger.

Her heart in her mouth, shocked eyes helplessly glued to piercing blue ones. She couldn't believe that he was actually touching her hair like that. It was so unreal after what he did to her last night. And now all of a sudden, when she was least equipped to deal with him, he was reaching out and touching her hair as though that were his right.

But it was not his right and she did not want him touching her.

She jerked back almost instantly, glaring up at him.

"Stop that," he gritted with a ferocious anger simmering in his hardened tone.

"I already told you I don't want you touching me," she shot back. "Besides, I like it short. I don't care what you think of it," she said, keeping her voice cool and composed. "If I want your opinion I will request it."

After a long pause, the older elf took a full step back, a deep frown-line of impressive incredulity hardening his features as he looked her over. "Why did you choose this attire?" he demanded with savage abruptness, surveying her with the same way that one might look at a child struggling to be amusingly mature beyond its years.

She stood straighter. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"There's nothing wrong," he said evenly, but she didn't believe him. "You're just showing off so much skin. You usually wear outfits that are more conservative."

Her eyes rolled. "You're so judgmental."

His imperious features took on a sardonic cast. "I wonder, do you suddenly desire to give the male half of Skyhold erotic fantasies for the rest of their nights?"

Her chin came up defensively. "Anything else about me that doesn't meet with your approval, your highness?" she mocked, stung.

"It's not that. I just don't understand all of this." His eyes began to glint. "You chopped off your hair, you're wearing an outfit you once called obscene, and you remade your face with so many colors."

In receipt of that, Ellana was so desperate to slap him and working so hard to restrain that urge that she trembled. "Are you quite finished making me feel horrid about myself?"

His eyes shone with incredulity. "How?"

"Do you really have to ask? Are you really that insensitive?"

Solas hunkered down on a level with her. "You misunderstand me. Ellana—" he uttered in a ragged undertone. "From heart to skin you are perfect just as you are." He was cruel enough to push her hair off her cheek and deprive her of all natural concealment. "Please don't lose the beautiful person you were before in your retribution against me."

His thumb brushed across her cheekbone before sliding down the side of her neck to her bare shoulder leaving goosebumps in its wake. His hand then rounded her shoulder and moved slowly down her arm, his fingernails trailing lightly over her bare skin.

"I am not seeking retribution against you, Solas," she informed him in a small voice. "I did this for myself."

His brow became creased with deep lines. "Why?"

Her mouth pulled tight and she pulled away from him. "I don't need to explain myself to you."

His eyes flicked up to hers and stared, probing, searching for… something. "What is the purpose of all this?"

She sighed. "You wouldn't understand."

The edges of his eyes creased. Irritation. He didn't like her response. "No? And why not?"

She looked anywhere but at him. "Please, just—"

With blatant irritation, he asked, "Have I done something to show I lack the proper mental capacity to grasp such a concept?"

"No, it's not that. I—"

"Or do you simply not wish to tell me. Is that it? You no longer view my counsel as—"

"I wanted to be someone else tonight, okay?" she confessed in a voice that was very close to breaking, stark strain etched in her bone structure.

He looked shocked rigid, and somehow that pleased her. She wanted to catch him by surprise, wanted to have him revealing something he didn't want to.

"I see," he replied after a long pause, his face becoming set like stone, but his eyes were a deep, dark ocean, as turbulent as a storm-swept sky.

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

He dealt her a measuring appraisal. "You don't just get mad, you get even, is that it?" he accused. "You're punishing me."

The sardonic arrogance, that cynical tone, snapped something within her. "You are such an arrogant prick."

He blinked rapidly. "I beg your pardon?"

"This has nothing to do with you!" she cried.

He gave her a frowning glance, this one rifle with skepticism. "Doesn't it?"

Fuming, she threw her hands up in the air. "It's not all about you—why do you think everything is about you? Creators, you are so egotistical!"

"Am I?" he spoke caustically, contemptuously.

"Yes!" she launched at him. "This is about me! My appearance and my coming here tonight had nothing to do with you. I just wanted… needed to feel something other than broken!"

A moment after that and his voice came, sounding soft and remorseful and very, very weary, "Don't you think I feel guilty enough?"

After a long pregnant pause, her throat worked and her voice came out softer than she liked. "Look… just forget about it. I'm no longer your concern, right?" The lines of her jaw were tense with the effort to appear calm, unaffected. "Just like you wanted."

To her surprise, he laughed, deridingly shaking his head as if he couldn't believe she'd actually said that. "That is not what I want."

She stared at him as if he'd grown two heads. He confused her. She couldn't comprehend that response given what he'd done and said to her last night. "Then what do you want?"

Although his mouth compressed, he made no comment. His face was suddenly all sharp bones, impenetrable as a stone cliff. So guarded. Why did he always hide himself?

Her eyes rolled, her frustration and ire apparent. "I don't understand you."

"I know." His sigh seemed to rake over ever inch of him. "As your friend, I feel I must—"

"We're not friends, Solas," she framed thickly. "And you want to know why? Because I know nothing about you. We're just strangers with memories." That fact made her feel really foolish for believing even for a moment that they'd shared something special once.

"I can understand how you feel—"

"You couldn't," she cut in, woodenly controlled. "You keep me in the dark. There is a wall around you that I cannot breach because you don't want me to."

There was a long pause before he finally said, "Things are so much easier in the Fade." He rubbed his face with a calloused hand. In every movement and every gesture, she could tell that he was tired. He was worn out. He looked like a wreck.

Her gaze darted away, hands fisting at her sides. "Keep your walls, then, Solas, for I am sick and tired of talking to them. Now, if you will excuse me, I want to go back downstairs. After all, since you made it perfectly clear you don't want me anymore, I feel the need to spend the rest of my night with someone who does."

She moved to pass him towards the stairs, but before she could get far, his hand grabbed her arm and yanked her around.

"What are you—?" The words were barely out of her mouth before he pressed her against the wooden wall, his hands on either side of her head, trapping her with his body.

"Don't want you? I can't even look at you without wanting you." The words were a mere rumble escaping the back of his throat, the rawness of his emotions etched in every line of his face.

"You clearly have no idea what you want," she managed to whisper, having to squeeze the words past the ball in her throat. "You encouraged me to care for you and then you dumped me. You either want me or you don't, Solas. You can't have it both ways."

Flint-blue eyes pierced into her, incredibly intense, as he shifted his weight from his hands to his elbows, forcing himself closer until their breaths mingled, his lungs seeming to suck up all the oxygen, leaving her breathless.

"It's not that simple." His silky voice slid over her like liquid sin, his breath ruffling the locks framing her face.

For the space of a dozen heartbeats their gazes remained locked, the air between them charged and electric, like a cloud of lightning hovering around them.

Her mouth ran dry and the tip of her tongue snaked out to moisten her dry lips.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and he lingered, as if considering.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped, tilting her chin up so he could see her anger and hurt, but most importantly her defiance. "I don't like being toyed with, Solas." Her voice was a thin venomous rasp. "It's cruel and hurtful and— _don't you dare touch me_ ," she hissed at him when he dared to inch closer to her.

"Do you think it will hurt more if I don't touch you or if I do?" His intonation was deep-pitched, disturbingly rough.

 _Well, two can play this game,_ she thought resentfully.

"Hurt more for me or for you?" Her voice had come out low and soft and unbelievably sensual—and spoken as she arched subtly toward him, challenging him, letting her chest lightly brush against his for a split second.

Smirking, she looked up into his face and her smirk vanished. His eyes were fire-tinged cobalt, spearing through her like hot, sooty coals. She'd never seen eyes so alive, so hot and hungry. Lust was too tame a word for what she saw in his gaze.

But he was fighting it, fighting so fiercely.

He leaned over her so that their faces were a hairsbreadth apart, violent hunger jumping and pulsing around him like fire, as if any moment he might lose whatever tenuous hold he had on his control.

"You do this to me on purpose. Taunting me. Teasing me. _Ma tasa ell'vas_." His voice was strained with the force of his desire, his jaw locked with his fierce determination to leash it, exercising an unnatural level of restraint.

She stared at him in bewilderment, marveling at his control and his contradictions. " _Gila ma nuvenin_ —what do you want?"

Abruptly, he took her face into his hands. " _Ma nuvenin_ ," he answered fiercely and his mouth slammed down on hers.

It happened so fast, it caught her off guard. His mouth fastened on hers with tortured, driving urgency. This was no gentle kiss like all the ones before it, but one filled with hunger long denied. His lips moved over hers as if he was drinking her in, consuming her, like a templar who'd been away from his lyrium for far too long.

His hand fisted in her hair, pulled her head to the side, his mouth latching onto the skin of her throat. She exhaled a shuttering breath as he fervently nipped and licked and kissed down the column of her neck, his tongue making trails over her sensitive skin.

Her fingers hooked into his belt, drawing him closer, and his fingers tightened in her hair in response, his lips pressing harder against her throat. His other hand slid under her arm to hook over her shoulder, fingers stretching the collar of her armor as far as it would go, his mouth trailing hungrily over each exposed inch of skin revealed. Breathing heavily now, her head fell to the side limply, her chin resting on her shoulder.

" _Dirthera ar venavis_ ," he groaned, allowing his tongue to rake over her flesh. "Tell me to stop."

"I can't," she panted, shivering as his teeth scraped down the side of her neck.

His body suddenly grew taut before he gripped her upper arms and pushed her away from him, tearing his mouth from her skin with the greatest of difficulty.

" _Venavis_ —we must stop," he rasped harshly, his face hard and taut, something akin to agony twisting his features. But his hand lifted to her face, as if irresistibly compelled.

" _Tel'dirthera_ ," she breathed forcefully against his thumb that he dragged along her bottom lip before pushing her lips apart and tearing at them ravenously with his mouth.

His hand shifted to cup her jaw, his thumb pressed against her cheekbone, his fingers curled into her hair as his tongue stroked along the seam of her lips. Her breath came in a wild gasp as he forced her lips apart, as if desperate to get inside her mouth. His hand angled her head so his tongue could sink deeper into her mouth, while the other slid down to cup her rear. He squeezed and yanked her closer until her hips were pinned against his, like he wanted to pull her clear inside of him.

A rough sound exploded from his lips as he rocked against her, his erection hard against her. Fervently she slid her hands up and under the hem of his tunic, her nails digging into the tautness that strained across his back, holding him to her.

He rocked against her again, his hand leaving her hair to cup her breast, toying with her nipple through the thin fabric covering it. She shuddered, waves of heat rolling down the entire length of her body, like little tongues of flames licking at parchment. Her fingers dug into his waist as she rolled her hips against his and a raw, unhinged groan vibrated in the back of his throat as she rubbed herself against him.

" _Ma amae lethalas_ ," he rasped against her lips. "I'm a masochist."

"I would say you're more of a sadist," she replied breathlessly.

"I have to stop this." His voice was quiet with an undertone of desperation. "Now or I'll doom both of us."

He tried to pull away, but she didn't let him. She physically couldn't. She needed too much. She was dying for more, primed for it.

"Solas…" she pleaded.

He shook his head and his mouth opened, but her hand caught his face and she swallowed his breath, kissing him as if her life and his depended on it. Her other hand fell to fumble with his belt in her urgency, then the laces of his pants.

Solas made a strangled sound before grabbing her wrists and pulling them over her head, pressing them to the wall, and handcuffed them with one of his hands. He brought his free hand down and cupped her jaw as he broke from the kiss.

He drew back to look down at her, pain swirling in his eyes, his chest lifting and falling in a hectic, shallow attempt at breathing.

"You… stay." His voice was so dark and full of lust that she couldn't believe it just came from him. "Just… stay there. I need… a moment."

_To get your control back?_

Straining against her pinned wrists, she leaned forward to try and kiss him again to stop that from happening, but he pulled his head back.

" _Venavis!_ For both our sakes, for my sanity… _stop_!" he growled harshly, staring down at her with somber, tormented eyes, an expression close to pain on his face.

Her tongue caressed his name and he shoved her away from him with an explosive curse. He took a few steps back from her, the physical distance just emphasizing the emotional detachment she could sense happening.

Wide-eyed, she stared at him, having to lean weakly back against the wall behind her, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her. They both breathed with deep, wracking pulls of their lungs, while frustrated longing saturated the air like steam.

Forced to stare at the hard, remorseful look on his face felt like actual physical pain. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. What was his problem? One minute he kissed her as if he couldn't live without her, and the next—Raging frustration sizzled through her. She almost lost her head with him at that point. Had there been anything within reach she would have picked it up and chucked it at his head.

He turned away abruptly and stood with his back to her. His head was bowed, his hands clenched into fists, his tension so palpable that it straightened her spine and held it so stiff it tingled like a live wire.

She glared at his back through the dim light. He was regaining some of that control that had momentarily slipped away from him. When he next spoke, his voice was so low She could barely make out his words.

"I offer you my sincere apologies for my selfish behavior," he whispered thickly though he didn't turn around to face her. "What we just… that was impulsive and ill-considered, and I should not have started it."

Feeling unmercifully snubbed, she stole a burning glance at him as he turned back around. He was intentionally carving up her heart, inch by inch, dangling out false hope, cruelly making her yearn for things she could never have, dreams that would never realize.

"You must not attach blame to yourself in any way. This was all my fault," he asserted, freezing her out with a façade of cold formality.

Her eyes were hot with unshed tears but she was quivering with furious pain. "If you were standing at an open window at this moment I'd push you out of it," she heard herself say, her voice coming out reed thin.

She watched his eyes grow stormy, a muscle moving up and down in his jaw, as if he were chewing on something hard and distasteful. "I swore I would never have you beneath me because—"

"Coward," she virtually spat the word at him.

Hardened blue eyes flew up to hers and narrowed severely, his mouth twisting savagely. She had the feeling that this was probably what it felt like to stare down a Qunari dreadnaught. Deliberately taunting and provoking a man as seriously close to the edge as Solas was a dangerous endeavor, and she wasn't entirely sure what would happen.

"Stop trying to rile me into doing something you're going to regret later and hate me for," he rasped.

Her eyes were glistening with wrathful tears of condemnation, her anger and hurt all-consuming. "How did you expect me to react after you kissed me again? Did you ever stop to consider the damage you would cause?" She watched bleakly as the view in front of him went out of focus through eyes that slowly filled with tears. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not invincible. I can be cut and when I am, I bleed, just like any other. Though, none can twist the knife quite like you can." Her voice pitch had acquired a thready tremor she despised.

He didn't answer; instead a hand went up to grip the back of his angry neck, the action showing all the guilt and frustration he was currently experiencing. "I'm sorry."

 _But—too late,_ she thought grimly.

"Forgive me," he sighed. "I did not wish to hurt you even more than I already have."

She stressed, "But you're hurting too. I can see it. You're too damn proud, stubborn, and determined to fight me at every opportunity even when it clearly hurts you to do so."

"I will keep you away from me, regardless of how you or I feel about it, because it is the right thing to do. In this instance trust that I know best," he murmured, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of his own words.

Suddenly everything clicked into place, as if someone had flicked on a light switch in a darkened room. Everything made sense in an instant. She'd gotten it wrong. He didn't leave her because he didn't care. He did care. But he didn't want to. Something was holding him back. He was cutting her out of his life for a reason.

"Solas…" She murmured as she took a step closer as he took a step back.

"No," he breathed with a raw edge. "My decision is clear as cut glass and I won't be revisiting it." His hand made a slashing motion. " _Vir halam_ —We are finished."

"I'm not giving up on you, Solas," she said on a wispy catch of breath.

He surveyed her with razor-edged intensity, luxuriant black lashes covertly veiling his acute gaze. "You truly should."

And with that he moved toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, as if he couldn't get away from her fast enough.

As his quiet footsteps receded, she fell back against the wall, her back connecting with a heavy thud. Her legs were weak, her lungs dragging in great gasps of air as her tension slowly drained away, only to leave her in a state of disbelief.

She sucked in three jagged breaths before her legs gave out under her and her back slid slowly down the wall to collapse on the floor.

She realized then that she was crying, silently, tears falling slowly down her cheeks.

She bent her legs and wrapped her arms around them, pressing her face into her knees.

"Webs of hurt snared with omitted truths."

The Inquisitor lifted her tear-stained face to find Cole crouched down and balancing on the balls of his feet with his elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between his legs. The wide brim of his large tattered brown hat was lowered low over his ghostly-white face, concealing his haunted blue eyes.

Cole's voice came soft and gentle, "Pain. Your cup is full of it. Careful it doesn't spill over the rim and soak into your gloves and make them soggy."

The rims of her eyes were inflamed. "Tell me what to do," she pleaded softly in a stuttering whisper.

"See him when you look at him," Cole whispered to her in the softest, gentlest of voices, the embodiment of compassion. "Bright and brilliant, for so long he has wandered the ways, walking unwaking, searching for wisdom. Endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. Hurting, an old pain from long, long before, when everything sang the same." His hat lifted and she collided with those otherworldly blue eyes of his. "And then _you_ happened, like a ripple in his pond, your every action causing movement all around."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and croaked, "Are you talking about Solas?"

Cole nodded, his haunted eyes gazing steadily at her. "In your mind, he doesn't care for you, but you're doing it wrong. That isn't what he thinks."

Her eyes searched his. "What does he think?"

"That you're real, and it means everyone could be real. It changes everything, but it can't."

Her brow furrowed. "What are you saying, Cole?"

Cole frowned sadly. "His friend had to die because his friend thought they were people. _They can't be real_."

Her eyes widened. "Are you saying Solas… _killed_ someone?"

"Yes. A slow arrow breaks in the sad wolf's jaws."

 _Wolf? Slow arrow? Like the old story about the Dread Wolf?_ Ellana thought, trying to understand.

"It hurt him to do it, is _still_ hurting him," Cole explained. "Solas doesn't want to hurt anybody. He's not that kind of wolf."

"Wolf?"

"Yes. He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap." Cole sighed. "He thinks he made a mistake. He didn't do it to be right. He did it to _save_ them. He wasn't wrong, but he regrets. He regrets so much. They are not gone because he remembers them, won't let himself forget. He could forget them, let them go, but he _can't_."

Her heart sped up. "Who? Who can't he let go?"

"His people," he answered. "And those that claim divinity. But only their magic is divine. Their bodies can decay, rot, die just as you can."

"His people? You mean elves?"

He shook his head, his expression solemn.

"I don't understand."

"They are gone, but not forever. They sleep, masked in a mirror, hiding, hurting, and to wake them…" Cole gasped. "Where did it go?"

"I apologize, Cole. That is not a pain you can heal."

She looked over Cole's shoulder to find Solas standing at the top of the stairs, his body taut, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Cole stood slowing, turning to face Solas. " _Ar lasa mala revas_. You are so beautiful. But then you turned away. Why?"

She stood as well. She put her hand on Cole's upper arm and poked her head out, peering around Cole's taller frame to see Solas.

"I had no choice," Solas answered, not looking at her but at Cole.

Cole pressed, "The want is so strong but tangled with restraint that is stronger. More pain, more joy than anyone can bear, and yet you embraced it?"

Solas' eyes shifted to her and he smiled a slow, sad smile that made her hurt inside.

"How could I not?" They were quiet, quiet words.

"Because… ah, I see it," Cole exclaimed with sudden understanding. "You hide it beneath the underneath, but it is there. It's what changed you." Cole's smiled fell. "Are you sure it can't stop your feet from walking the path?"

Solas' eyes fell away from hers. "Yes."

"But... she is bare-faced and free but embarrassed, and she doesn't know. She thinks it's because of her."

She cut in, "I don't know what?"

Solas shot Cole a dark look of warning. "You cannot heal this, Cole. Please, let it go."

"What don't I know?" Ellana demanded.

"But she _needs_ the words," Cole exclaimed urgently, pleading. "A dragon without its wings is destined to fall!"

"Cole…" Solas warned darkly.

Cole's words came out fast and frantic, "You think the words will be like poison, turning her core black and rotten. That she will ingest them incorrectly. But you're wrong. She defies your every expectation, always has. They are seeds you keep in your pocket. They only grow when covered with dirt!"

" _NO!_ " Solas bellowed so violently that she jumped, stunned by the fiery heat of his anger glowing liked banked embers in his eyes.

Chewing pensively on her lower lip, Ellana watched Solas make an effort to control himself, his shoulders heaving on a long intake of air as he turned his face from Cole to stare at the wall.

"I'm sorry, my friend," Solas apologized to Cole, his gaze fixed upon the wall.

Cole was shaking his head at Solas, as if disappointed in him. "Then the wolf will forever howl at the moon alone, until it dies, _alone_ , begging for its own heart's removal." Before the last word left his mouth, Cole vanished into thin air, as if swallowed up by the shadows.

Solas closed his eyes at Cole's words, pain raking across his features. His eyes slowly opened into hers and she felt tears of utter wretchedness burn at the back of her eyes as she stared into a tableau of heart-wrenching forlornness reflected in those fathomless blue pools set in a face carved with a deep-seated loneliness.

That harrowing expression was hard to look at and she shoved past him and rushed down the stairs to escape it.

She stumbled down the stairs and headed for the front door.

She heard Solas call her name but she kept walking, needing some momentary distance from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ma tasa ell'vas: You test my very soul.
> 
> Gila ma nuvenin: What do you want?
> 
> Ma nuvenin: Want you.
> 
> Dirthera ar venavis: Tell me to stop.
> 
> Venavis: Stop.
> 
> Tel'dirthera: Shut up. 
> 
> Ma amae lethalas: You drive me crazy.
> 
> Fenedhis: Common curse.
> 
> Vir halam: We are finished.
> 
> Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Ghost by Halsey. Also, there is a reference to the book Dragon Age: The Masked Empire in this chapter. In the book there is a Dalish Dreamer mage named Felassan who is a friend of Briala. His name "Felassan" means "slow arrow". The name is a reference to a legend about Fen-Harel, which is at the beginning of this chapter. He was also a friend of Solas right before the events of Dragon Age Inquisition.


	4. Pride

_There was a young noble in fair Arlathan._

_The elven king lost one of his two daughters to a serpent's bite._

_At the ceremony to commemorate her life,_

_the young noble saw an elven lady_

_so fair and perfect that his heart broke._

_But by the laws of ancient Arlathan,_

_he was forbidden to speak with her during the ceremony,_

_and he did not learn who she was,_

_so he could not ask her family to court her._

_The young noble prayed to the gods_

_that he might meet the elven lady again._

_He prayed to Mythal for love,_

_and Dirthamen for the secret of the elven lady's name,_

_and to Andruil for luck in the hunt for this woman._

_And finally, he made an offering to Fen'Harel._

_The Dread Wolf was the only one who answered._

_In a dream that night,_

_Fen'Harel told the noble what he needed to do to see his heart's love again:_

_Kill the king's other daughter._

The Inquisitor exited the Herald's Rest with Solas following behind her. She wished he would just back off a little and give her time to recover and think.

The air was chilly and crisp, with a vast midnight sky overhead. Moonlight skimmed the high edges of the stone towers and the trees, brightening Skyhold with its silvery light. In the distance, she could hear the lonesome cry of an animal, the sound drifting to her on the winter breeze that smelled of ice.

She moved through the chilly darkness toward the stone steps that led up to the throne room in the main keep. The only source of light was the moon overhead and the wildly dancing light cast by the torches that lined the stone steps and stone walls of the main keep.

Cole's words were still bumping around in her head raising questions she wanted answers to. Her head pounded with so much confusion and tension that she was beginning to feel physically sick.

She stopped in front of the stone steps and forced herself to exhale slowly, white mist blooming in front of her face in the wintry night air.

She rolled her neck on her shoulders to ease the tension that had built there.

The Inquisitor's back suddenly snapped taut as she felt Solas come to stand directly behind her, close enough for their clothing to brush. He was so close behind her that she could actually feel his breath as it stirred her hair. She felt like he was imposing and invading, eating up her personal space that she desired so much in order to breathe properly.

"You must be cold," he murmured.

With her attention fixed exclusively on his closeness, Ellana could only manage a single nod.

Tense, exhausted, and utterly drained from the fight they'd just had in the tavern, she jumped slightly when he gently covered her shoulders with her heavy winter cloak that she'd inadvertently left in the tavern.

Ellana turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. "Thank you." Her words were as tight as her spine, her breath condensing in front of her face.

She looked away from him and pulled her cloak tighter around her to block out the winter wind that rushed passed her. She veered left from the stone steps and headed for a small cluster of oak trees.

Solas followed close behind her and neither elf spoke again.

He stepped onto the lawn and leaned against one of the oak trees while she walked up to the other tree that was a few feet across from him. The Dalish elf picked at the bark of her tree. She plucked off a bit of bark, popped it into her mouth, and chewed.

Solas folded his arms as he leaned his back against the oak tree in his black winter cloak, his eyes lingering broodingly on her as she chewed the bark and swallowed it.

He cleared his throat. "There are no words for my regret."

Ellana sighed heavily and then straightened to survey Solas with eyes empty of all emotion, for she was drained. "Nor mine."

For a long moment his eyes searched hers. "You really hate me, don't you?"

She breathed deeply. "I just wish things were different."

Ellana leaned her shoulder against her tree and smiled ruefully. "Creators, I made such a fool of myself tonight, didn't I?"

His laugh was a soft, velvety sound. "That is for the stories to decide."

"Hopefully they will gloss over this night of momentary insanity and remember me for stopping Corypheus and helping our people."

" _Our_ people? Oh, you mean elves!" He laughed softly. "I'm sorry. I was confused. I do not see myself to have much in common with the elves."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Who do you have much in common with? Who are your people?"

"A good question," he answered elusively.

She frowned. Trying to get Solas to talk about something he didn't want to talk about was like trying to get blood out of a stone. He seemed determined to give her vague answers and maintain his frustratingly enigmatic allusions.

Her voice turned sharp, "Our people have lost everything. They need you. They could learn from you. Yet you do nothing."

"You mean the Dalish?" he asked coolly. "They are not _my_ people."

She snorted. "What's your problem with the Dalish? Allergic to Halla?"

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he explained, "They are children acting out stories they have misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times over, mangling details."

"Oh, but you know the truth, right?" she scoffed, crossing her arms. "Since you're so perfect and knowledgeable, what course would you set for the Dalish that is better than they know now?"

His eyes narrowed. "They should not cling to memories of a better past, but rather seek the power to restore it."

She surveyed him in growing wonderment. "Restore it? Restore Elvhenan?"

His face was as pale as marble and just about as unyielding. "Why not? In my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade I have seen what was lost. Once, the ancient elvhen walked this land as gods. They were everyone once. There were no humans, no dwarves, no race but the elvhen. They worked magic that would blind you with its beauty. Now, their fragmented shadows lurk in the deep forests and prepare for the next time humans do something that upsets the balance of this world. Thankfully, some hope remains for restoration."

"But restoring Elvhenan is impossible!" she exclaimed. "Besides, how many years is long enough to grieve a past which cannot be altered?"

His eyes cut into hers like abrasive blue diamonds. "Don't… don't talk like one of them, _vhenan_. You're not. You're different. You have a spirit like those that have been lost. Not like these… these… _people_ ," he gritted scornfully.

"You know, it really drives me nuts the way you're so high and mighty," she thrust at him curtly. "We're just ants to you, aren't we? Nuisances to be stepped on and squashed if we just happen to get in your way?"

When he said nothing, she glared at him. "Ma banal las halamshir var then."

"I have done no such thing," he replied coolly. "I simply see no way to help the elves, oppressed as they are now."

She scoffed. "The man who has lived half his life in the Fade has no ideas?"

He laughed softly, as if at some personal joke. "Not unless we collapse the Veil and bring the Fade here so I can casually reshape reality, no."

"There!" she exclaimed, taking a step toward him and pointing an angry finger at him. "Right there! What does that mean? You say it like…"

She shook her head, eyes narrowing on him. "I want to know your secret."

She watched him turn himself into a block of stone. "Secret?"

"Don't deny it," she chastised sharply. "I am no fool."

"I never said you were," he replied, smooth as velvet.

Her chin lifted in challenge. "I want the truth."

The heavy sweep of lashes veiled his gaze. "And what truth is that?"

"Stop deflecting," she shot back as she took a step toward him.

His eyes lifted to lock onto her through his lashes, incredibly intense. "Truth is not the end, but a beginning."

She stared at him in consternation. "You are not who you say you are."

In the silence after her words had fallen, Ellana felt a strange heaviness in the air, and though Solas smiled politely, it did not twist his mouth like a real smile would have.

"And who am I?" She nearly shuddered at the chill in his tone.

She listed off, "You have the features of an elf, but you are not Dalish. You are not a city elf. You are not a slave. You are not a circle mage."

His expression shuttered. "I've spent most of my life alone, wandering the wilderness, teaching myself how to master my magical abilities."

Moving past that excuse, she continued, "You have this unique ability… this kind of lucid dreaming that I've never seen before. You have knowledge of the Fade that is unparalleled. You can manipulate the rifts in the Veil in ways that is unheard of."

"I prefer to spend my time dreaming in ancient ruins and learning all there is to learn about what dwells beyond the Veil. That has granted me unique knowledge and abilities."

Undeterred, Ellana heaved in a breath. "You are considered a hedge mage, but I've never seen or felt the magic you possess. It is Elvhen, but it is very old. It feels more like… like the Well of Sorrows than anything else."

Another silence followed—a cold, stiff silence that could freeze the blood in your veins. Tension sang from every taut sinew as he sent his gaze swinging across the field to the tavern. When he looked back at her the blue pools in his eyes had chilled to blocks of ice. "I visit the Fade regularly. Perhaps you are sensing traces of it."

Slowly, Ellana shook her head in denial of that excuse. "Your taller than any elf I've ever seen. Your accent is unrecognizable," she breathed shakily. "You speak Elvhen as if you _created_ it."

Solas had a sudden eerie quality of utter stillness that unnerved her. Even his hands had gone still, one of them tucked under his cloak where he kept his staff. He still leaned against the tree, but one leg had shifted, the motion barely noticeable, to give him leverage to kick himself off the tree. Only someone who knew Solas' moods and body language, would know that he was ready to kill if need be.

She held her breath when he kicked off the tree, slow and casual, and stalked toward her. Her thoughts straightened and her attention became riveted by the fluid way in which he moved, never breaking eye contact with her, his pace slow, measured.

A shiver of foreboding ran down her spine and she was forced to instinctively retreat a step, steadily tracked by sharp blue eyes that watched her like a hawk. Solas cocked his head at her reaction, eyes piercing into her. She was frozen to the spot when he began to walk in a slow circle around her.

Warily, she turned, keeping him in sight, unsure of what he might do. Each time she turned she caught a glimpse of eyes glinting in the darkness, catching the reflection of the torchlight as they continued to stare back at her, like a big black storm cloud within which lurked the threat of a lightning strike.

"Continue," Solas demanded in a quiet voice, totally unyielding.

Ellana swallowed nervously and did what he said, "You display unusual knowledge of ancient Elvhen culture and magic." Her voice shook with the force of her unease as she spoke. "Sometimes you speak of the distant past of Elvhenan almost as if you lived it yourself."

She turned again in place, her eyes following him as he continued to circle her with the intensity of a wild predator. She hated it. It made her feel out of control and small. Was he trying to intimidate her? If so, he was proficient at it.

She pressed on relentlessly, "You are more akin to Abelas, which makes you, what? Ancient, in some way?"

"If I am this ancient you believe me to be, how could I live for so long?" he questioned in a hushed tone.

Ellana stiffened, forewarned by the frost coating his words and the forbidding tension of his face. "You could've entered _uthenara_ , the eternal sleep, drawing sustenance from the Fade itself," she answered, her voice small and strained. "Or so the old songs say."

Solas came to an abrupt stop right in front of her, his expression too frighteningly inexplicable to dare to read. A signal of danger wormed its way through her and activated a sudden need for flight. She found herself retreating back until her back connected with a tree trunk.

"What are you hiding from me?" she managed to inquire despite the icy chill of warning coating her veins.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage when he stepped closer to her, toe-to-toe. He leaned close, until his face was inches from hers, and all she could see were his eyes and the intensity in them, so brutal she could feel them boring into the back of her skull.

"Do you really want to know the answer to that question?" Solas prompted lethally, his untraceable accent thickening his vowel sounds.

She thought she was in no real danger, that Solas was not preparing his magic to strike her dead for her suspicions. But it struck her, staring into those guarded eyes, that if anyone could be so controlled, so tightly coiled, as to keep his magical tells in check on those occasions when he was truly ready to kill, it would be him.

As if hearing her thoughts, Solas quietly said, "I won't hurt you, _vhenan_."

From this position their torsos were inches apart, his knee touching the side of her leg a little. Just as their proximity and the intensity of holding eye contact was becoming truly devastating for her, Solas went even further and leaned in closer.

The distance between them narrowed to nothing as he reached around her and plucked off a bit of bark off the tree her back was currently pressed against. The fabric of his winter cloak brushed her chest, though his actual torso never touched hers. His face hovered just above hers, and thankfully the angle gave her a chance to break that soul-reaching eye contact.

She tensed when his hand brushed against her upper arm briefly as he brought the bark to his mouth before lowering his arm and backing up, allowing her room to breathe again. He slowly chewed on the bark with unbelievable cool.

"What don't you want me to know?" she demanded.

His tone became dark and forbidding as he swallowed the bark. "I can't answer that yet."

Her eyes sparked hot mercury. "There is something going on here that you aren't telling me, and I want to know just what it is."

His expression was apologetic. "I have my own reasons for keeping things from you and I don't intend to share them at this time. I know females don't like mysteries but, in this case, discretion is necessary."

He was holding something back, she realized. Whatever he was planning, he didn't want to tell her. He was afraid of what she would think or do. And honestly, she was afraid of what she would hear but she _needed_ to hear it anyway.

"Please…" she beseeched, grabbing his arm, finding herself suddenly having to brace herself against the feel of tightly-coiled muscles flexing beneath her grip.

She watched his black lashes flicker as he ran his gaze over the hand touching him. Then, he lifted his eyes to meet hers again, and the regretful look on his face made her insides twist. "Your curious nature is one of the many qualities I admire about you, but in this respect I am unable to appease your curiosity at this moment in time."

She stared up at him, imploringly. "Solas, don't—please don't shut me out."

She reached up to stroke his face. His eyes clenched shut and his heated breath to stutter out unevenly, as if that simple gesture alone could cripple him.

Her fingers skimmed slowly, lightly, down the side of his face. "On very rare occasions I see these glimpses of you— _the real you_. I see them and they make all the heartache bearable because I know that no one else has even gotten one glimpse. _Don't shut me out now_."

"Do you think I want it to be this way?" There was something in his voice, a slight break that could have been born of agony. "I wish I could look at you and feel nothing, but that's not the way it is. I look at you and I…"

"You what?" she asked when he hesitated.

He tore his gaze from hers and stepped back from her. "You are… not what I expected."

Her heart fell. She knew that wasn't what he was going to say.

"Sorry to disappoint," she muttered ruefully.

"It's not disappointing it's…" He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Everything about you goes against everything I anticipated. You change… _everything_. You complicate things that were once simple."

"But nothing worth having is ever simple, Solas!"

He looked at her for a long second, and then the corners of his mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. "This I know well."

Her expression grew dejected and her eyes fell to fix upon the ground.

Something soft stroked her cheek. His thumb, brushing over her cheekbone. "The first time I saw you…" he husked, a tremor she'd never heard before threading his voice. "I did not know something so beautiful could exist in this world." His voice was raw, almost broken. "You alone have shown me that there is beauty in this world worth saving."

His features were taut with the strangest hint of vulnerability, and she raised her fingers to trace the compressed line of his lips.

"So much heart…" she whispered thickly. "Where was your heart when I gave you mine?"

The rhythm of his breathing was abruptly fractured, as if something had caught him by the throat. However, he quickly recovered his self-possession and rasped, "That does not make what must come next any easier."

There was a long and painful silence, a shift in the mood that seemed to electrify like a current as she trailed her fingertips down his chin, his throat, his chest.

She drew in breath, but couldn't catch it. "Tell me you don't care."

"I can't do that." Emotion wound through her at the rough, gutted sound of his voice.

"Then why?" Her voice caught, snagged on a tear. "Why can't you be with me?"

"The answer you want…" He hesitated. "It is an explanation, not a solution."

"Lasa ghilan," she said.

"It's complicated."

"I love you," she whispered chokily, taking in a fistful of his cloak. "Do you really think I won't understand?"

His eyes glassed over, the muscles of his face contorting painfully. She studied his profile, the lines etched deep around his eyes and mouth, which told her how tired he was, and there was also an air of deep-seated sadness about him.

She felt as if she was going to cry. The emotions were like a fountain inside her that had been blocked. The pressure was building and building. She could feel it behind her eyes; she could feel it inside her chest, a tight ache that burned like fire.

"If you care, give me the truth." Her voice broke on the last word.

"You'll understand soon. Sooner than you realize," he framed half under his breath.

Ellana stared at his face until it began to blur from the tears that clouded her vision. Her eyes closed, her heart breaking all over again, wondering why he wanted to hurt her so much. Every muscle in her body knotted as pain lanced through her. She felt her throat closing, the muscles working painfully to stop the spill of tears and the sob that was desperate to wrench out of her.

He touched her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his where she found this awful look of vulnerability on his face.

"So many people have cried in front of me, typically pleading with me for something. Their tears do not move me. Never have. But _yours_ …" he broke off with a harsh husky agony in his tone. His fingers slid gently over her cheeks, wiping away her tears as they slipped free of her eyes. "Yours could bring me to my knees."

"Why can't you be with me?" Tears stung hotly in her throat causing her voice to wobble.

He took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes held hers, delving into the depths of her soul.

"Because you are my one and only weakness," he uttered rawly in the roughest tone she'd ever heard from him. "And I can't afford to have any weaknesses."

She pressed her forehead back against his, looking at him through pools of tears, her nose red and her lips trembling uncontrollably.

With complete and total focus he slowly scanned over her devastated features, lingering on each one. His expression twisted, the pain a hard grimace on his face. " _Ar din'an ma_ —you will be the death of me."

With a raw sound his arms closed around her and she was engulfed, enfolded by them. She turned her head to the side and let her cheek rest against his collarbone, her palms pressed against his chest.

"What we have is special… _really_ special." Her arms pulled away from his chest to slide around him, fitting in the dip of his back. "Don't throw it away."

Solas turned his head and tucked his face into her hair. "I don't _want_ to let this go."

Her fingers splayed against his back. "Then don't."

"It would be a mistake not to." The words were so soft she felt them more than heard them.

Her forehead pressed against the side of his throat as she nestled closer. "Nothing that feels this good could possibly be a mistake."

The arms around her tightened, clutching her to him, his arms gripping her almost painfully. "You will never be a mistake, _ma vhenan_. How can you be when you are the best thing to ever happen to me?"

He sighed, setting her back from him with hands that he couldn't keep quite steady. He closed his eyes momentarily, as if he was resigning himself to something, before opening them again to lock onto hers.

"But I am set on the path that I must walk in solitude forever." The words were said with grave resolve. "I've risked everything in the hope that the future is better. But imagine if it wasn't? Imagine waking up to find that the future you shaped is worse than what was?" he revealed with raw force. "There are few regrets sharper than watching fools squander what you sacrificed to achieve."

Solas was quiet for a while, his expression bleak and brooding. "Sometimes to achieve the world one desires, one must take regrettable measures. In doing so, I have broken the chains of all who wish to join me. This fate is mine alone. Indeed, I would not wish it on an enemy, much less someone that I care for."

"Whatever it is you're planning… we can do it together," she decreed without hesitation.

The irises of his eyes glinted like cerulean glass. "I cannot do that to you. I take no joy in what I must do. I walk the Din'anshiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become!"

A shaft of pain went through her. Each word out of his mouth she'd been praying for something more. Praying for a dream that wasn't going to happen. An immense bitterness gripped her. The emotion was so intense, it literally frightened her.

"So, that's it? You've made your decision and I'm just supposed to accept it?" she shot back, stung. "Do I get a say in this?"

Those thick dark lashes descended until the look in his eyes was virtually obscured. "No, you don't," he said softly.

She stared at him in wounded bewilderment, the final part of that statement grabbing hold of her gut like a violent twist of a fist. She felt as if someone were trying to rip her guts out with a machete and she was forced to lean back against the tree trunk. She had nothing left to fight him with.

After a long pause, Solas moved to stand next to her with his back against the tree, both of them staring up at the endless expanse of stars that dotted the night sky. They looked on in silence while a cold wind swept through Skyhold, ruffling her hair and rustling their clothes. The weight of so many things filled the air between them, a near-tangible thing. It felt as if a divide the width of an immeasurable abyss separated them.

Ellana suddenly felt fingers brush against hers. Her eyes flew sideways up to his face, but Solas wasn't looking at her. He was staring up at the stars, puffs of white mist blooming in front of his face every time he exhaled. Her eyes dropped to the fingers that were now sliding through hers, warm and strong, filling the spaces between her fingers, fitting between them so _perfectly_.

Ellana looked back up at the stars as Solas pulled her hand between them, holding on to it.

It felt like goodbye.

Ellana wasn't ready for goodbye.

She didn't think she'd ever be ready for goodbye.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ten minutes later, when the Inquisitor walked dazedly into her quarters, she couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. She moved slowly through her room, as if in a depressed haze. Numbly, she moved to the water basin in the corner of her room. She splashed cool water on her face and removed the powders and creams that Josephine had applied there. She patted her face dry with a piece of cloth before chewing on a few mint leaves to freshen her breath. Then she removed her outrageous outfit and donned a thin-strapped sleeping tunic made of white cotton.

She stared at her bed, thinking of all the nights that had stretched into eternity as she had spent them alone. She was emotionally drained, feeling unbearably low and lonely, and suffering from a busted heart. After the tenth hungry grumble from her stomach, Ellana shuffled off to the kitchens for a late night snack before going to bed. Barefoot she padded disoriented down the stairs, unseeing of the world around her as she walked through the throne room.

The Inquisitor made her way into the empty kitchen that contained a table and chairs along with a cooking spit. She went into the larder and made a plate of meat, cheese, and bread. She sat at the table and ate the entire plate. After cleaning up she began making some tea. She blew her short, choppy blonde hair out of her eyes and began filling the black kettle with water and setting it over the fire. She crossed her arms and waited for the water to boil.

As the Inquisitor continued to wait for the water to boil she lowered her lashes on her dry eyes. All the emotion and activity of the day were suddenly hitting her in one go and exhaustion was weighing her down. She was keenly aware of this quiet hollow in her chest, as if her heart had withered up and died, and with it pulled out the last threads of warmth that she'd had to leave nothing but a cold and empty chest cavity in its place.

Why—? Because despite how deeply Solas had hurt her, she still loved him. Even though her love was not reciprocated, it still coursed through her veins, softening and purifying her heart. No matter what, no matter when, no matter why—she still loved him so badly that she could barely cope with what losing him was doing to her.

Creators, but she hated him for that. She wanted to hurt him more than anyone else she'd ever known. She wanted to kick and scratch him and say horrible things until perhaps he got a little taste of the pain she was feeling. But how could you truly hate someone when you loved them too much to carry out such retribution?

She was stuck in the horrible spot between loving him and hating him. It was like being addicted to poison. You know it's bad for you. You know it will hurt you. But you can't stop yourself from taking it. Feeling it burn everything inside like acid until it was a barren wasteland.

What she was feeling was forcing her to remember that she cared a great deal more about Solas than he cared about her. He cared for her, yes, but not once had Solas told her he loved her. And there was some personal mission he was on to restore ancient Elvhenan, a mission he didn't want her to be apart of. He'd made it clear that his mission meant more to him than she did. That mission was his present and his future. So where did that leave her? Out of his life, that's where. She didn't want to be the sort of sad woman who settled for the crumbs some man occasionally tossed her way because she lacked the pride to believe that she deserved the whole fairytale. If she did survive Corypheus she would prefer to survive with her dignity and sanity intact.

"Are you all right?" Came a male voice from behind her.

Ellana turned to find Gatt watching her with concern from the doorway, his hands braced on the doorframe.

"I'm fine," she assured him with a smile that was genuine, if tired.

He nodded, concern still evident in his green eyes, but he relaxed slightly. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Her smile grew. "I would enjoy some company,"

Gatt smiled as he pushed off the doorway to walk into the room. He eyed the wine rack on the wall and pointed to it. "Would you mind if I had a drink?"

"Go ahead," she answered and turned around to watch him grab two glasses and a bottle of wine before sitting at the table.

In silence, Ellana studied Gatt's handsome features and windswept brown hair as he opened the bottle.

"I'm glad to see you again tonight," Gatt said with a smile, but concern was still etched on his features.

"And in sleepwear, no less," she said and her voice sounded clear, almost teasing, and she sent up a prayer of thanks for this reprieve from the tightly coiled nerves of earlier.

His lips quirked up slightly as he poured himself a glass. "The Inquisitor in her nighty. I never thought this day would come."

"I sure didn't," she said as she ran a hand over her white sleeping tunic.

He lifted the glass to his lips, his green eyes glittering over the rim. "You look very pretty."

"Thank you," she said blushing slightly.

Gatt gave her a disarming smile. "Sit. Have a drink with me."

Taken aback by that smooth command, Ellana gave him a surprised glance. "I'm not sure—"

"Seize the opportunity," Gatt advised silkily, using his foot to push the chair opposite of him out for her in invitation.

Ellana laughed softly and Gatt poured her a glass of wine. She sat across from him at the table, taking the glass in her hand and taking a sip. She hummed with approval.

"What is this?" She squinted at the bottle to read the label and then answered her own question. "Antivan red wine."

Gatt smirked at her. "Oh, so the southern peoples do read. I thought that was a myth."

She laughed. "You're so Qunari!"

His green eyes were soft on her face as his lips pulled into a winning smile that could melt any female's heart. After a few sips of the wine, Ellana let her finger run around the rim of her glass, her eyes lifting to Gatt's.

"You know, I've heard stories about the Qunari," she murmured.

"Hmm," he mused as he watched her finger circle the rim of her glass.

"They conquered nearly all of the north. Tevinter, Rivain, Antiva… Much of the land was laid waste. In the northern kingdoms, they say the Qunari are implacable. Relentless. More like a landslide than an invasion. It took three Exalted Marches to drive them back to the sea."

His eyes gleamed. "We'll do better next time."

She blinked at him. "Are you saying I could end up in negotiations with the Qunari one day?"

He gave her a pointed look. "The Qunari do not negotiate."

Her eyebrows rose. "What do you mean? They negotiated a peace treaty after the war, and as far as I know they've kept to its terms."

He gave a dismissive wave with his hand. "They signed a piece of paper. But only because they knew that you believed in it."

"And what is the difference between that and negotiating?"

"They stopped fighting for their own reasons. And they will resume it again, one day. The agreement means nothing to them."

She frowned. "But I thought the Qunari believed in honor."

He nodded. "They do. The honor of the Qunari is what will bring our warships back to southern shores."

Her head tilted. "Should I be afraid?"

"You should be prepared." He rested his elbows on the table. "All are equal under the Qun. We accept beings of all walks of life, so long as they are willing to find their place within the Qun." He rested his glass against his temple as he looked at her. "Although you yourself should not be worried."

One blonde eyebrow quirked. "Why me?"

"Because you are _basalit-an_."

She smiled sweetly at him. "I'm flattered."

"You should be. Not many are worthy of such title."

Ellana swirled the red liquid in her glass. "So, what was the assignment you had tonight?"

Gatt leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the wooden surface as if he were debating whether or not to tell her. He must have decided positively because he said, "The Qunari have learned that the ancient elves had closed all paths to what your swamp witch calls "the Crossroads" long before the fall of Arlathan. They warred with themselves, and the eluvians were sealed to prevent an enemy from using them to attack."

Interested, Ellana leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

He scratched his cheek. "Two years ago, within the borders of Orlais, the Dalish Virnehn clan summoned the demon Imshael to help reactivate the eluvian network. Imshael created a Keystone that would lead whoever wielded it to a central chamber connected to all of the eluvians in Thedas. From there, whoever holds the Keystone could reactivate the eluvians and reset the spoken password needed to travel through them."

Gatt gestured with his hand. "Long story short, the Keystone fell into the hands of Briala, Empress Celene's elven spymaster and lover, and Briala's friend, a Dalish Dreamer mage named Felassan. Briala and Felassan reactivated all the eluvians across Thedas and bound their use to a spoken password that only she knew."

"So, this eluvian network is under control of Briala?" she asked.

"For a time she controlled part of the labyrinth. But our information indicates that someone's magic has overrode Briala and her Keystone."

"You said Felassan?" Ellana murmured. "That means 'slow arrow'. The name must be a reference to the old legend about Fen-Harel."

"That's right."

"What happened to him?" she asked warily.

"He was killed."

Ellana stared down at her glass, thinking on Cole's words: " _His friend had to die. Because he thought they were people._ _They can't be real. A slow arrow breaks in the sad wolf's jaws."_

She swallowed nervously before asking, "Who killed him?"

"We think an agent of Fen-Harel."

"An agent of Fen-Harel?"

"There are rumors that agents of Fen-Harel are leading an elven rebellion against the humans," Gatt said gravely. "The Ben-Hassrath are troubled that shortly after discovering there is a living vessel of Mythal, yet another fabled elven god's name is also making an appearance."

Her expression was grave. "The Inquisition has nothing to do with these agents."

He nodded. "I agree, but others do not."

She eyed him curiously. "So, what were you doing tonight?"

"Following the elven mage by the name of Dalish."

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Why?"

"We believe she is one of their chief agents."

Her expression was dubious. "You think Dalish is a spy for an elven god?"

"Please, don't make it sound so farfetched," Gatt chuckled. "We heard about how you ran into an ancient elf by the name of Abelas at the Well of Sorrows. Was he not an agent of Mythal, who is believed to be an elven god?"

"Good point," she conceded.

"Dalish is packing as we speak for a sudden and unexpected trip to Halamshiral. She leaves tomorrow morning. We will have her followed. Hopefully she will lead us to more agents of Fen'Harel."

The kettle whined to the boil. Ellana stood and made tea, put the pot back on the fire to brew for a while. Thinking on Gatt's words, the Inquisitor walked over to the counter and pulled herself up to sit on top of it, seriously troubled by this news.

Ellana's chin lifted, white-blond strands framing her solemn face. "I promise you that the Inquisition isn't working for agents of Fen'Harel."

He smiled at her. "I believe you."

"Thank you," she replied as she looked down, her feet swinging slightly as she sat on the counter.

Gatt stood from his chair at the table. He folded his arms and rested his hip against the corner of the table as he looking at her with a curious gaze.

"May I ask you a personal question?" Gatt asked after a long pause.

"Sure."

"Why did you change your appearance tonight?" he asked gently.

She sighed. "I thought it would make me more desirable."

"And you wanted to be more desirable in order to attract a male tonight to take your virginity?"

"In a nutshell," she answered with a rueful laugh as her heels continuously hit the counter every few seconds from the nervous swinging of her legs.

He tilted his head as he looked at her. "After what I learned about you tonight I find that I am unable to comprehend your motives."

"How so?"

"Don't you belong to the older elf with a chip on his shoulder?"

"In fact I belong to no one. As for the older elf with the chip on his shoulder, he's made it perfectly clear that he can no longer be with me," she finished with a shrug, aiming for indifference.

"His loss," Gatt replied with a lethally attractive half-smile.

Ellana felt her shoulders deflate slightly and she was a little overcome with gratitude that he was there, that he understood, that she didn't feel so alone.

Gatt's arms unfolded, falling to his sides as he straightened. Ellana's eyes widened when he began advancing on her. Then he was standing in front of her. Her face flushed when his hands settled against the counter on either side of her thighs. Gatt studied her closely as he came close enough for his chest to brush against her bent knees.

"You should not be robbed of enjoying yourself because he cannot appreciate a treasure like you." One hand lifted to brush a straying blonde lock from her cheek and tucked it behind her pointed ear with a casual intimacy that unnerved her. It said that he had the right to touch her, a right she hadn't yet allowed him. An alarm bell shrieked in her brain, warning her to back off and enforce boundaries.

Instantly, Ellana felt queasy and guilty as hell, like she was betraying Solas in some way.

 _He left you_ , a bitter little voice reminded her. _He said he can never be with you_. _Certainly any pathetic loyalty and devotion to him will not gain you any rewards._

Sudden defiance blazed through her. Since when had she been the sort who moped around pinning for something she couldn't have? Life was too short for such things. Wasn't that what had started this whole tonight in the first place?

Ellana found herself considering Gatt's earlier offer. Here she was on the eve of the final battle with Corypheus and she would most likely never see him again, so there would be no lingering embarrassment, no further meetings, and no lasting connection. The two of them were both after the same thing: a complication-free hook-up. He was as close to perfect for her purposes as it was possible to get.

Ellana glanced up and found Gatt's mossy green gaze welded to her.

"Are you single?" she heard herself ask abruptly.

"Yes. Will you spend the night with me?" Gatt murmured smoothly, his stunning gaze flaring wicked emerald as he traced a forefinger down her bare arm. "I want you."

His directness disconcerted Ellana but pleased her as well because she valued candor.

She laughed. "You don't have to say stuff like that."

"I speak only the truth." Gatt's hands curled around her knees on the counter and slowly spread her thighs to allow him to ease between her legs. Her sleeping tunic rode up her thighs. His hands skimmed up the white cotton material on her thighs to rest on her hips.

She could feel his chin brush against her shoulder as his mouth neared her ear. "I will please you, _kadan_ ," Gatt assured in a silky undertone that vibrated with assurance.

Ellana's natural instinct was to push him away, but she was so cold inside, and he was so warm and solid and consoling. She was tired, so very tired of fighting for something and never winning, so much so that her head felt as if it was about to split open. She didn't want to feel this unattainable longing anymore and its accompanying loneliness and pain. She wanted to escape, to lose herself in him. She knew it would be a mistake. He was just a stand in for the one she truly wanted. But right then she just didn't care. The warmth and comfort he exuded was much too tempting, and Ellana found herself unable to stop him, or herself.

_This is it. Time I knew what all the fuss is about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ma banal las halamshir var vhen: You have abandoned the elves.
> 
> Ar din'an ma: You will be the death of me.
> 
> This chapter has a soundtrack: Colors by Halsey.
> 
> There are a lot of references to the book Dragon Age: The Masked Empire in this chapter and some parts taken straight from it.


	5. Wrath

" _A fight is going on inside me,"_ _Fen_ _'Harel said to Mythal._

" _It's a terrible fight and it is between two wolves._

_One is evil – he is hate, wrath, pride, envy, greed, deceit, gluttony, sloth, sorrow, and lust._

_The other is good – he is kindness, patience, humility, compassion, mercy, wisdom, truth, happiness, and love._

_The same fight is going on inside you – and inside the others, too."_

_Mythal thought about that for a minute._

_Then she asked_ _Fen'_ _Harel, "Which wolf will win?"_

 _Fen_ ' _Harel simply replied, "The one you feed."_

"Should I get that?" Gatt whispered, his lips lightly brushing against the sensitive skin beneath her ear, his hands resting lightly on her hips. "I don't want to wake up the entire keep."

It was only then that the buzzing in Ellana's ears morphed into a loud whining sound that could only be the kettle. The Inquisitor's throat closed over a shocking surge of hysterical laughter for she hadn't even heard the loud sound over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

"Who is making so much racket at one o'clock in the morning when—?"

Ellana's head whipped to the side and everything within her solidified to stone. Her ribcage felt too tight and a sick feeling settled in her stomach as her gaze landed on Solas framed in the doorway of the kitchens.

Wide-eyed Ellana stared at Solas from where she sat on the kitchen counter, her hands on Gatt's shoulders. She watched his eyes lock onto Gatt, dark and glittering and intense, a deep scowl tainting his lips. He stood aggressively tall, corded muscles bunched beneath his winter cloak, murderous intensions stealing over his hardened face. There was a violent tic in his clenched jaw and his body emitted a very palpable aura of hostility, violence, and barely leashed power that seemed to take up the space around his taut frame, pulsing like a dark, foreboding cloud of energy.

"Ah, the one with the chip on his shoulder," Gatt chuckled, not moving from where he stood between her legs with his hands on her hips despite the other elf's seething antagonism aimed at him.

"I suggest you leave.  _Now_." Solas' voice was dark and threatening, his expression an icy mask of aggression. "I'll give you one warning."

With a gleam in his eye, Gatt took her hand and bowed his head to place a kiss on the back on her hand, his lips hovering an inch over her hand. "I'll come to your quarters in half an hour, my dear Inquisito—"

His words were cut off as an invisible force suddenly slammed into him, throwing him away from her, as if a great telekinetic fist had punched him in the chest, sending him flying backwards and smashing into the wall so hard there was a violent shake of the walls from the force of the impact.

Gatt straightened against the wall, a hand pressed to his ribs. His eyes met hers and he smiled, "Thirty minutes,  _kadan_."

Gatt pushed himself off the wall and headed for the backdoor, not sparing Solas a glance.

Before the door closed behind Gatt, Solas was storming towards her, his expression thunderous, his fists tightly clenched at his sides as his body vibrated with barely leashed fury. The temper he always contained like a wildfire seething beneath the surface of his skin, struggling to escape the bonds of his rigid self-discipline.

Ellana maintained an air of calm indifference to him as she hopped off the counter without looking at him. She stood on her bare feet, one hand smoothing down her white sleeping tunic. She made a show of casually strolling over to the fire and removing the whining kettle, ignoring the storm cloud that was Solas' temperament hovering to her left.

"What were you doing with him?" Solas demanded from a distance of five feet. He didn't trust himself any closer. She understood that.

"Nothing," she replied with an even if not bored tone as she steadily poured herself a cup of tea.

"It did not look like nothing. Fenedhis, he was standing between your thighs!" he hissed vehemently, his breath fracturing audibly with the force of his anger.

She shrugged as she stirred in some sugar. "So?"

" _So?_ " Solas asked incredulously, disbelief and outrage giving an edge to his voice. "Your were kissing me only an hour ago!"

Ellana calmly brought the cup to her lips with both hands and blew on the steaming surface before remarking casually, "And you were rejecting me only thirty minutes ago."

"What," he said through clenched teeth after a long pause, "do you think you are doing with him?"

"Enjoying myself. Obviously," Ellana jibed with a chuckle of unconcealed amusement and derision. "Lose one, find another. Isn't that how it works?"

The Inquisitor continued to nonchalantly sip her tea, the hot liquid burning down her throat. His smoldering silence made her stop and look up at him, but all she saw was the silken curve of sooty eyelashes covering his eyes so she couldn't see what was exposed there. Beginning to look away from him again, she caught a glimpse of his mouth as it moved, suddenly hardening into the kind of sneer that made her eyes widen.

His eyelashes flicked up to reveal his eyes. Something severe was burning there, something brutal and fierce and so, so angry that she drew in a sharp breath and stepped back, clutching her cup tighter in her hands.

"You seem to move on quickly, don't you?" There was an edge to his voice, so sharp it could cut bone.

"Surprised? You shouldn't be. You've been telling me to move on since last night," Ellana tossed back, her tone low and measured, a signal that her temper simmered just below the even surface.

"I said no such thing," he uttered, speaking in a tight voice that belied the raging emotions she could see flashing in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of her cup. "Oh, so I'm supposed to remain alone for the rest of my life while you walk your Din'anshiral? Is that what you expect from me? How very selfish of you," she censored. Ellana finished off her tea before remarking coolly, "Unlike you, Gatt was asking me to spend the night with him."

"He was…  _what?!_ " The burn in his gaze could singe flesh.

She tossed her white-blonde head before meeting his gaze to say cheerfully, "Looks like tonight will be the night I lose my virginity."

Solas became so still she thought all his vital organs had stopped. He didn't even look to be breathing. In the tense silence that followed he stared at her with unnerving intensity, his eyes a little strange, piercing and eerily focused, a brilliant ocean blue.

"You're a… I didn't… I was unaware that you were…" He paused, his brows cramming together in a thunderous frown. "Why are you a virgin?"

"What sort of a question is that?" Her face turned bright red. "I don't know, because no one ever wanted to sleep with me before. Thanks for pointing that out."

His mouth opened and for a moment she was sure he was about to speak. Then his lips firmed.

In the ensuing silence Ellana washed her cup and put it away. As she patted her hands dry she stated pleasantly, "Now that you know, will you please leave me alone so I can remedy that."

"Remedy?" she heard him utter disbelievingly. "You couldn't possibly mean that you are actually thinking about—"

"That's right." She turned to face him, a sickly sweet smile on her face. "Thanks to Gatt, I'm not going to die a virgin."

"I don't… how could you?" Words seemed to fail him.

"Solas, you make me want what no one else ever has," Ellana explained, speaking to a point just over his shoulder. "But since I can't have you, I feel I should at least experience it before I die, which in all likelihood will be tomorrow."

"How could you use your body like that?" he drawled in a darkly insolent voice.

"What do you care?" she scoffed. "You don't want it so why shouldn't it go to someone else who does?"

"For only one night!" he said in a driven undertone.

"You never even gave me that!" Ellana shot back heatedly, her temper rising.

Solas took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "Ellana, if you do this…" Taking a second deep breath and letting it out slowly, he continued, "…you will feel cheap and used," he warned darkly.

She folded her arms with a calm that seemed to irritate him. "You of all people should understand. After all, you just adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger and sex? Isn't that right, Solas?" she said, tossing his own words back at him.

He threw a hand up in the air in frustration. "You're not listening to me."

"You're not saying anything I want to hear," she countered evenly. "Or anything that will change my mind."

"Have you no decent feelings?" His voice rang in accusation.

She shrugged, still with that amazingly calm exterior. "Sometimes all you want to do is grab the first person you see and let them love you because you know you're gonna be dead soon anyway."

His mouth twisted into a sneer. "Sex," he corrected harshly. "That is what you'll experience tonight. A quick tumble that will steal you of your innocence and replace it with a disillusionment that will turn you cold and bitter," he predicted in a chilling tone.

"Like you?" she jeered.

"Yes, like me," he laughed softly, a harsh whisper of sound edged with self-mockery.

"And why should I not be allowed to experience that?" she inquired curtly.

" _Because you deserve better!_ " The words were a crack of sound. His chest heaved as he tried and failed to drag in air. Ellana's ears buzzed with the heavy pulse of her racing blood at the ferocity and conviction behind his words.

"The only thing better would be with you." Her voice rose on top of the heavy beat of her heart—as if she were out of breath. "But since I can't have you it seems I should simply experience it and embrace disillusionment and welcome everlasting bitterness."

Solas just shook his head quietly. "I don't understand why you could possibly want this."

She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to be a real woman. Is that so terrible?"

Solas scrubbed his face with his hands, then dragged them over his head in a frustrated motion. "This might be one of the worst nights of my life, and that is saying something," he grumbled to himself. "Will this wretched night never end?"

She averted her gaze, hands fisting at her sides, and heard him sigh, long and low. "Listen to me," he started, much calmer. "We need—What are you doing?" he raked out in disbelief as Ellana shoved passed him and marched out of the kitchens.

"Come back here!" he exclaimed after her. "You cannot just walk away from this!"

 _Just watch me!_  Ellana thought wretchedly as she took the steps two at a time and was about to push open the door to the throne room when a strong hand closed over her arm, fingers biting into her flesh to hold her back.

"Where are you going?" Ruthless lines of incredulity and anger were etched around his eyes and mouth, his high, cheekbones giving him a primitive look.

Ellana tilted her chin to an even more imperious angle, bitterly regretting that she wore no shoes and only her nighty, his towering height and overpowering presence making her feel very small. "I'm going to my quarters to meet up with someone who actually wants me."

"No," he ordered, his voice fierce and low, his eyes hot and bright with outrage. She'd never seen him so furious.

"What did you say?" she hissed at him.

He kept a tight grip on her arm as he glared down at her. "I said no."

Her eyes sparking militantly, Ellana snarled at him. "How dare you?! You cannot dictate to me. I am the leader of the Inquisition, not some meek-mannered child or a mabari bitch who will roll over at your every command!" she spat unforgivably.

She ripped her arm from his grasp and made to move passed him. When he reached for her again, she ducked under his arm and ran—out into the throne room and headed swiftly for the door to her quarters, conscious of his pounding pursuit gaining on her at every stride.

She'd had enough of a head start to get to the door just in front of him, her teeth grinding as her fingers fumbled to shoot the lock a split second before the full force of his pursuing weight hit the door. She leaned back against it, feeling the vibration of his pounding fists down the length of her spine.

"Go away!" she shouted.

"Ellana—open this door!" He punctuated his angry demand.

"No—go away!"

"Ellana…" Solas said hoarsely, appealing to her in a voice she had never heard before, and she felt a little bump against the back of her skull that suggested he was resting his forehead against the wood. "Do not go through with this." It must have hit him that she really meant to sleep with Gatt because his voice was rough and urgent. "This is not what you want. You will live to regret it."

Ellana's silver eyes lit with an unholy fury. She was enraged at his confident assumption that he knew how she would feel about anything.

Seething, she ripped the door open to glare daggers at him. "You don't know what I want. You can't read my heart!"

Ellana shrank back when Solas threw open the door. The violent entry sent the door banging into the wall and startled her. Suddenly, he was standing over her, boring down on her, driving her to back up until her heels hit the first step of the stairs that led up to her quarters. There was a dark edge to him. Tension coiled her muscles, unease strumming her nerves.

"Read it?" He growled down at her, crowding her, making her personal space his. " _I own it_."

Ellana winced when he shoved his finger painfully into the flesh over her heart. The only source of light in the stairwell was the light coming in through the bottom of the door. The dim lighting in the stairwell had most of the strong angles of his face in shadow, but she could see a line was between his eyebrows, his nostrils were flaring, eyes drilling holes into the back of her head.

"I possess your heart." His voice was dark and grating. "You gave it to me freely. And I will own it.  _Always_."

"May the Dread Wolf take you!" Ellana screeched in outrage, slapping his finger away. "I'm free to do what I want with whomever I want!"

"Not when you're only doing it to get back at me!"

It was a ruthless jab and hit home painfully, draining her lungs and reddening her face, because she couldn't even argue the point with him. Ellana's fisted hands were clenched so tight she could feel the sting of her nails digging into her palms.

"Do you even hear yourself? You're being totally unreasonable and irrational." She shot him a blistering look of dazzling fury and frustration. "There is something seriously wrong with you if you think you can dump me, tell me there is no future with you, and then be furious with me for trying to move on to someone else! Gods, you're so hopped up on testosterone that it's turned you stupid!"

Her body was so tense her muscles were literally hurting. The knot in her stomach swelled, pressing on her lungs. Ellana drew in a deep breath, struggling for air, and then hissed through her teeth, "Go to the atrium. Go to the Fade. I really don't care. Just don't stop me."

The blood suddenly drained from his face, his complexion turning pale, his stoic mask falling to reveal something raw and vulnerable.

"Don't do this," he whispered brokenly, like he couldn't bear to see it happen.

Her chin lifted sharply. "Why not?"

"I…" But it seemed whatever words he had gathered had abandoned him.

She stepped toe-to-toe with him, eyes narrowed in challenge. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't sleep with Gatt?"

His eyes shadowed in a way she'd never seen before. He lifted a hand and then lowered it again, as if he was unsure whether to touch her or not.

She watched him close his eyes, whisper a harsh curse, and then turn those depthless blue eyes on her again. "You know why."

"Say it," she demanded, severe and unrelenting. "I want to hear you say it."

She wanted him to tell her that he needed her, loved her even, that he would be with her always.

She lingered for a moment or so, hoping for three little words she so desperately longed to hear from him.

But there was only silence.

That was all she needed.

"Yeah… that's what I thought," she grumbled bitterly.

The Inquisitor shook her head in frustration and disappointment as she walked around him to the door. Her hand lifted and reached out to fall heavily on the door handle. The wooden door opened with a creak and she turned to face him.

"Get out, Solas."

His head jerked up, as if catching a scent on the wind, looking panic stricken. "What?"

"You heard me," she snapped. With a dismissive thumb, she motioned to the door. "Get out."

Slowly, those eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in a fierce glower. "I'm not going anywhere until we work this out."

"There's nothing left to work out, and I don't want you here when Gatt arrives." She left the door open for him to leave out of and stepped around him to take the stairs up to her room.

Once her back was turned to him she heard the door slam thunderously shut behind her, causing her to jump with a wince.

Whirling around she stared at his menacing silhouette in the dark. His frame was rigid with pent up anger. Her eyes fell to his hand that was gripping the door handle so tight his knuckles had turned white.

Solas sliced a hard glance her way from beneath his lashes, his eyes stabbing through the dim light into her. "No one leaves this room, or comes in, until we come to some understanding."

His hand slowly detached from the door handle. He leaned his back against the wall beside the door, looking back at her through eyes heavily hooded by thick dark lashes, as if to make his point that he wasn't leaving.

Looking at him, Ellana saw how tightly he held onto control and wondered what it took to make him snap. If she could just push him far enough to forget his reasons and restraints, he would be hers. And, she acknowledged, she wanted that, wanted him with a need that left no room for second-guessing.

The way she saw it she already had his heart, or had at least earmarked it. Her name was tattooed across the organ in bold black ink, but it was still caged within his chest, and Solas wasn't going to give it up without a fight. She'd been fighting for it,  _gods_  had she been fighting tooth and bloody nail for that damn heart of his. But this was their last battle. She had to give him one last shot. She had to give  _them_  one last chance. And she had to give it everything she had. She was not afraid to ask for what she wanted. She was not afraid to own up to her own desires.

And that's when she, Ellana Lavellan, took the initiative.

Her lips curved slowly into a sultry smile, her body untensing and becoming languid as she sank into her hip and subtly arched her back in a provocative pose. She saw his eyebrows pull slowly together at her stance and her expression that was like a cat facing a saucer of sweet cream, apparently confused and suspicious of her sudden change in mood.

"We don't need to reach an understanding, Solas," she murmured in a husky voice. "I know all I need to know about you."

Ellana put one bare foot in front of the other, her stride unhurried and sensual. Her hips swayed beneath her white nighty as she slowly dragged her hands up the sides of her thighs, letting the cotton material ride up from her ankles to her knees. She lowered her chin to let one short strand fall into her eyes and the pale blonde color of her hair lent an even more flattering silvery hue to her grey eyes and porcelain complexion.

Solas' expression changed to one of apprehension at her slow but seductive approach, his gaze closely following her every move, as if he feared what she might do. That flash of anxiety in his eyes, Ellana felt a surge of triumph that she'd made Solas feel nervous about her intentions.

She stopped in front of him, fighting against the hammering in her chest. Up close she could see the tension in him, in his neck muscles and in the stiffness of his shoulders beneath his cloak. She looked up at his face, saw the lines of strain and unease etched there.

Ellana swallowed before cautiously lifting her hand towards him. His sharp gaze swiftly fell to her hovering appendage and narrowed, as if its mere existence threatened him.

With shaky courage and a trembling hand, she gently pressed her palm to his chest. Solas' body stiffened immediately under her touch, as if she'd shot a bolt of lightning into him. He didn't seem to be breathing. She wasn't sure she was breathing either.

Beneath his winter cloak was a warm torso that was an amalgam of sharp angles and sinewy muscle. She licked her suddenly dry lips when she felt hard muscles flex beneath her palm, felt the dormant power he possessed, old and very powerful magic.

"I know that when I touch you…" she purred as she slowly dragged her palm up his chest until she felt his heart beat wildly under her palm, "…you stop breathing."

The lean, hard planes of his face instantly hardened, becoming harsh and forbidding, his strong jaw set and rigid. She smirked at that reaction, knowing she was having some affect, which pleased her far more than it should have.

She held his forbidding stare and summoned more courage to her being. She swallowed down her nervousness as she daringly hooked a finger into his belt to draw him closer.

"That when I press myself against you…" she continued, "…you tremble inside."

He gave her a stony stare, his eyes cold and dark like a slab of stone. But the sudden twitch of a nerve beside his mouth gave him away when she leaned provocatively against him.

She slowly dragged her hand up his chest to curl possessively around the back of his neck. "That when I kiss you…" Her fingers sank into the skin at the base of his neck and she slowly drew his mouth down to hers. "…you cling to me as if you can't live without me…" she breathed, letting her words fall across his lips. "…you feel something real for me."

His whole body was strung tight, so tense she thought he might snap against her, those soft pink lips of his parting just within reach of hers. She was about to press her lips to his when his hands shot out and took hold of her shoulders in a crushing grip to hold her away from him, trying to put some distance between them.

"Venavis." Abrasion roughened the low-pitched command, a dangerous glint in his glacial gaze.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "What's the matter, Solas? Worried about that self-control of yours?"

His eyes narrowed, deepening the furrow of his brow, and she flinched when his fingers pinched into her bare skin. A crazy heat that excited her electrified the air between them.

"Solas, Solas, Solas," she clicked her tongue as she dragged her hand down from his neck to his chest. "What am I going to do with you? I know what you want. Don't bother trying to deny it. I see it every time you look at me."

Solas' fingers tightened on her shoulders again, his grip becoming painful, his voice dropping and coming out like the agitated growl of a sleeping lion, "Tel'dirthera."

Ignoring his derisive tone, Ellana leaned forward to lick the dimple in his chin. "Would it really kill you to take what you want?"

A small cry left her as he yanked her, pulling her around before pushing her against the wall where he had just stood a moment before. She slammed into it, the sound resounding through the stairwell, her breath ripped from her lungs. Her chin lifted, eyes flashing up at him. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but he leaned into her, so close his nose brushed hers, his eyes holding a predatory burn that scorched her to the bone.

Reflexively she turned her face away from him, her chin resting on her shoulder, his hot breath at her ear.

" _Shut. Up._ " The words were a low snarl ripped from his throat, his breath rustling the hair around her ear.

She smirked darkly, her chin turning to face him first, dragging her eyes along after it until they locked onto his and it was like looking into the heart of a fire—blue flecks leaping and dancing like tongues of flames—burning up all the available oxygen in the atmosphere.

"Make me," she challenged in a low, taunting voice.

Slowly, so slowly, she rose up on her toes, bringing herself close enough that they shared the same air. His eyes shifted back and forth between hers, glittering chips of blue diamond fire, fingers digging into her shoulders like claws, but he didn't pull away.

"You don't want to talk? Fine. Let's do something else, something that doesn't involve talking," she said as she leisurely brought her hands up to touch his face.

In the blink of an eye, his hands caught both of her wrists and brought them forcefully against her sides. With her palms against her thighs she tried to break free of his powerful grip, but his hold was like iron.

Tipping her head upright, she shot him a withering look. "You can either do what I know you want to do, Solas, or you can get out."

Solas didn't respond, didn't move, but she felt his grip loosen ever so slightly on her wrists. She saw the internal struggle and weariness in his strained expression. Seeing his resistance falter made her feel irresistible, as if there was no male in Thedas or anywhere else in the universe who could refuse her.

Ellana yanked one of her wrists free and latched onto the front of his cloak. She straightened against the wall to press even closer to him as he held himself still as stone. Pulling the other wrist free she draped it over his shoulder, her hand hanging in the air. His hands hovered in the air at her sides, as if he was afraid to touch her, not sure what to do.

"Come on, Solas," she goaded, letting her bare foot drag up the side of his calf in a provocative caress. "Make me your own."

His jaw clenched, his teeth slightly bared through parted lips, his demeanor like a rattlesnake waving its tail in lethal warning.

She ignored that forewarning expression because in that moment she could see in his eyes the razor thin edge his control was teetering on. She latched onto it like it was a lifeline, knowing she could use it to tear apart that legendary control of his that was so very fragile right now. Gods help her, she wanted that control to break. She shouldn't be the only one breaking, after all. If he was going to break her, then she would do the same in return.

With a rush of blood and anticipation, the hand fisted onto the front of his cloak gave a sharp tug, dragging him backwards with her as she fell with a heavy thud against the wall. Solas seemed to topple forward, his hands reaching out to catch himself, slapping against the wall on either side of her head. With one more yank he was hauled against her, hip to hip, sending high-wire energy shooting through her like lightning.

"Come on, Solas," she purred arching into him, the unyielding planes of his chest pressing against the pound of her heartbeat. "This is your last chance to have me."

Her heart hammered in her chest, excitement thrumming through her as she lifted her arm that was draped over his shoulder to take hold of the cloak with both hands. She could hear his breathing, quick and shallow against the top of her head, as she wordlessly pushed the cloak up and over his shoulders, pulling it down to his elbows. He fought her by keeping his hands planted firmly on the wall, ferocious energy leaping around him.

Silver eyes flickered up to glare up at him for his infuriating resistance. She was surprised to find his head bowed, his muscles unbearably taut, his chest rising and falling in quick successions, blood pounding in the vein of his neck. His eyes clenched shut as he tried to reign in whatever was overcoming him, as if he was bracing himself against pain.

A frown crossed her brow. She didn't understand the expression on his face. It looked like frustration mixed with something that resembled pain, but not quite. Torment?

Instantly, she felt guilty for her forwardness.

 _Elgar'nan!_  She could feel his body shaking against hers.

Solas was a wreck.

Ellana bit her lip as she stared up at him. He was roiling inside and she was the cause of it. The realization hit her in a wave of despondency. She felt somehow as if she had taken unfair advantage of him, like kicking a wounded animal when it was most vulnerable all to sate her need for his closeness, for his love.

But she couldn't back down. Not now. For, having started, she found it quite impossible to retreat with dignity and she stabbed on regardless with her suicidal mission to make him finally act on this feeling between them. A spur of the moment idea had fired her up with an almost missionary enthusiasm to take what she wanted.

Her eyes fell to where his cloak was bunched at his elbows, his fingers white with strain against the wall. She swallowed back the thickness in her throat and struggled to breathe at a regular rate.

"Stop worrying," she said huskily before pushing down on his cloak, hard, causing his elbows to buckle and his hands to slip off the wall. The action caught Solas by surprise and he lost his balance. She quickly shoved the cloak down his arms to rid him of it as he staggered forward, one hand clamping down roughly on her hipbone while the other fell against the wall to prevent him from falling on top of her. A tremor worked down her spine as the heat of his hand soaked through the cotton fabric that covered her hipbone and seeped into her skin.

"You want me. I want you." She tossed the cloak aside, hearing it flutter to the floor. "We can work on the rest."

Solas' breath hitched and his eyes snapped open to burn a path into the back of her skull, seeing straight into her while prohibiting her from seeing inside him. She wondered momentarily what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

With trembling fingers, Ellana reached out and tugged on his brown leather belts, pulling at the buckles and straps. The miniscule gap separating them seemed to crackle with invisible sparks when they fell with a heavy thud to the floor.

Her blood pulsed hot as she lifted her hands to his white tunic, running her fingers over the brown leather that lined the collar and deep-V. Breathing heavily, Ellana's fingers dug into the opening of his tunic and took hold of the material. She yanked, hard, and his tunic ripped down the middle.

Heart in her throat, Ellana's gaze fell heatedly on his bare chest, smooth ivory skin pulled tight over lean, corded muscles.

She'd never seen so much of him before.

With a growing ache low in her body, she drew her hands to his heated skin, resting her palms on his lower abdomen right above his form-fitting green pants that hung low on his narrow hips. The muscles flexed beneath her hands, alive and strong and warm, in a rippling show of sinewy muscle. She could actually  _feel_  the tension ebbing and flowing like a violent surf beneath the surface of his skin.

With an afflicted expression, Solas turned his face away from her, that nerve twitching beside his mouth, his jaw clenched so tight she could hear his teeth grinding painfully against each other. She felt his struggle for control as his hard frame shook around her.

A pulse began to beat low in her core as her palms ran appreciatively up his chiseled torso before wrapping around the back of his neck, holding him in place, pure adrenaline rushing through her.

His head snapped forward, his smooth cheek rubbing against hers, his breath ragged in her ear, "You have the power to destroy me a thousand times over." His voice was harsh and hoarse from the raw tightness in his throat. "And I'm weak enough to let you."

"Lie with me." Both of her hands were firm on the nape of his neck as she tilted her head up, her nose grazing against his jaw as she sought to bring her lips closer to his. "Forget everything else."

She took a breath of the air expelled raggedly from his lungs, her mouth separated by not even an inch from his. Her eyes were half-closed as he pulled back from her, his fingers clamped tight on the tender skin of her hipbone. A small sound of protest made it past her lips. She tried to bring her lips to his again, her nose brushing against his, but his fingers dug unmercifully into her skin.

"No. I will not lie with you under false pretenses." His voice was sharp but pained and chock-full of conviction. "Do not ask me again."

In a single heartbeat his hand dropped from her waist and he withdrew from her completely, the open tunic fluttering back from his cut torso. Her hipbone was no longer throbbing from the painful grip he had on it, but the abrupt absence of his heat was like an icy burn. 

She felt a hollowness in her gut open up, wide and bottomless as forever. Though she'd been expecting his withdrawal and his rejection, it still hurt. That's all he ever seemed to be able to deliver, like the equivalent of toxic bait. But she didn't feel any better about herself. She felt selfish and cruel. She'd seen what a wreck he was and she'd just kept pushing him closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, hoping he would just jump with her. She didn't feel like they'd jumped. She felt like they'd just crashed and were now burning.

Ellana shook her head with a mirthless and defeated laugh, the air of dejection coming off her in waves. With hindsight that confidence of hers made Ellana recoil in mortification. Her head fell back against the wall, her heart battered and bruised at his blunt rejection of what she had to offer.

Feeling utterly beaten, she let her hands fall heavy to her sides. She was sick and tired of trying to convince the person she loved to love her back. The few beautiful moments they'd shared weren't worth the destructive ones.

Despite the fact that every part of her body was trembling, her voice came out severe and resolute, "I'm through hurting, Solas."

She ignored his flinch and reached blindly to her side, moving against the wall until she found the handle of the door. She pushed down and the door opened. Her hand fell away from the handle to slide down the wall to return to her side.

Ellana swallowed against the residual rawness in her throat and slashed, "Get out."

Solas hesitated, as if he didn't understand, his eyes not releasing hers. He was looking at her with blue eyes that held a miasma of despair, looking all wounded and with genuine confusion, with this thick air of anguish hanging all around him.

Ellana flung her head back, blonde hair dancing round her face, mulishly unaffected by that look.

"I said. Get. Out," Ellana ground out, her voice harsh and biting, her eyes revealing an unholy amount of bitter resentment. And Solas stood stock-still, digesting that look like he was swallowing acid, and said nothing.

They stood ominously still. Ellana kept her eyes firmly on the heavy rise and fall of his bared chest as he remained unmoving while she felt the searing appeal in his gaze sting into her pale cheeks.

After several long, tension-filled moments, Ellana muttered, "Solas…"

"Yes?" he croaked.

"Let me go," she said in a small voice.

She lifted her face to find him studying her with a somber intensity. She watched his throat work before he uttered under his breath, "I can't."

She looked down pointedly. "Your hand, Solas."

He looked down and appeared surprised to see his hand firmly holding hers, as if he wasn't aware that he'd even grabbed her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Please remove it."

His nostrils flared, the expression on his face shifting towards stubborn refusal. But then he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Ar lasa mala revas," he whispered before releasing her and the sound of  _those_  words escaping his throat on such lowly, wretched tones caused her vision to bleed red with a tempest of rage to roar through Ellana like a dam breaking its panels.

"Yes, I am free." Her lips pulled into a venomous sneer, and when she spoke her words were daggers thrown at him, meant to cut deep, aimed straight for his heart. "And when you are lying there in the dark tonight, cold and alone, wide-awake and aching for me; I will be warm in my bed and the man between my legs will not be you."

Solas recoiled as if she'd struck him. The look of raw agony that was present in his eyes was so pronounced it was hard to look at. Long black lashes lowered to half-mast, and she could see wetness clinging to the silken strands, then his eyelids lifted to reveal the wetness had frozen over leaving only two solid cubes of blue ice. She'd never seen anything so cold, so empty, or so hollow in her life. The desolation she saw there shredded her insides to vermicelli.

Solas yanked his ripped tunic closed and bent over to swipe his belts and cloak off the floor. Unable to watch him go, Ellana closed her eyes tight and pressed herself deeper into the wall and waited for the sound of the door closing behind him.

As soon as she heard the door slam shut she exhaled shakily. It was slow, jagged, and released more than just air. As she listened to Solas stomp down the hall of the throne room to what she assumed was the atrium she swallowed the painful lump that had become fixed in her throat with a slight wince.

A few minutes later and she heard a soft knock at the door. Her eyelids snapped open as she pressed a hand to her heart and she could feel the insanely happy thumb that was beating there.

_Solas had come back to her. He'd come back. He'd come back…_

With a beaming smile, she rushed to the door and opened it. It had to be him. It had to be—

Gatt.

She had to bite her lip to keep from letting the cry of disappointment escape her.

 _Stupid, stupid girl_.

Gatt smiled at her and she forced herself to smile back. Out of the corner of her right eye, she saw Solas standing in the throne room in the shadowy entrance to the atrium, his ripped tunic hanging open. He looked miserable, impossibly desolate, a solitary figure in his lonely, self-imposed isolation.

Gatt tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. He was saying something to her, she realized, but she couldn't hear him. She could only see his lips move as he spoke to her but her attention strayed to watch Solas out of the corner of her eye as he watched them, running a shaky hand over his head, muttering something to himself as he paced restlessly in the hallway to the atrium.

Aware that Gatt was waiting for some kind of response from her to whatever he'd said, Ellana smiled prettily up at the young male elf. She heard Gatt ask if this was what she really wanted, all the while discreetly keeping her eyes on Solas. He stood motionless now, breathing heavily, his teeth bared in a dark grimace, staring straight at her the entire time she was nodding and inviting Gatt into her bedroom.

As the door slowly closed behind them, Ellana turned her head to get a last glance of Solas. Through the narrowing gap between the slowly closing door and the doorframe, she watched Solas' proud head bow, his chin hitting his sternum. His shoulders slumped in dejection, as if a heavy weight rested atop them. She saw him turn toward the atrium, smashing his fist into the wall, breaking through the wood right before the door closed and the lock slid into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Venavis: Stop.
> 
> Tel'dirthera: Shut up. 
> 
> Ar lasa mala revas: You are free./I give you your freedom.
> 
> This chapter has a soundtrack: Drive by Halsey.


	6. Lust

_You must travel through those woods_

_Again and again_

_And you must be lucky_

_To avoid the wolf every time_

_But the wolf…_

_The wolf only needs enough luck to find you once_

_May the wolf never hear your steps_

_May the wolf never catch your scent_

_Because once he does_

_He will find you_

_Begin to circle you_

_Claws of black steel_

_Fur as dark night_

_Six eyes glowing red, jewels from the pit of hell itself_

_The wolf sniffing_

_Savoring the scent of the meal to come_

_Voice ringing with fullness_

_The wolf calls himself:_

_Pride_

Ellana watched Gatt as he looked carefully around him. His gaze took in everything - her bed, her couch, her desk, her books, her paintings, her personal trinkets and things that held sentimental value. She shifted uneasily on her feet in front of her desk, not sure what to do now that he was actually in her quarters, in the dead of night no less.

Her hipbone ached something fierce. Needing to do something, she moved swiftly to one of the small changing rooms at the back of the room. Once she was alone in the little room she lifted up her white nightgown and saw her hipbone had a full set of Solas' fingerprints on it. She frowned and pressed her palm over the bruising there. Her hand began to glow a soft blue as she pumped healing magic into her skin until it was fully healed.

After smoothing down her nightgown, the Inquisitor took a deep breath to gather her courage to face Gatt again. Abruptly, the little back room she was in begun to spin and a horribly familiar pain rose up to engulf her entire body. The Mark on her hand started glowing in the darkness with a vengeance. She gritted her teeth against the pain flowing out from the center of her hand that she cupped with the other. The eerie green light cast by the Anchor and its magic humming in the air made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. In her ears the whispers echoed – the whispers of the Well of Sorrows…

_Go to him…_

_Mythal speaks the Calling…_

_The Call is sweet…_

_From blood…_

_He is bound to the same…_

_Travel far…_

_She speaks the truth…_

_She's fallen…_

_Go to him…_

_Calling…_

_The Calling…_

In a cold sweat, the Inquisitor leaned heavily against the wall for support, her left hand cramping, her ears feeling as if they were bleeding. Moments later the whispers ceased and the pain receded, gradually, and she wondered how long it would be when the pain would no longer recede but rather rise up to kill her.

The Inquisitor wiped her brow, pulling herself back together, before stepping back into her room to find Gatt studying the books on ancient magic and elvhen culture that Solas had given her that sat on her desk.

With growing trepidation, she watched him approach her. "Do not be afraid," he said softly as he reached for her, but she flinched under his touch.

Gatt watched her closely with those all too seeing green orbs from beneath wayward chestnut brown locks. She felt nervous again, tongue tied, not knowing what to say.

A cold draft of air flowed in from the open balcony door, a draft whose cold seemed to reach her bones. Needing something to do, Ellana walked around him and crossed the room to her balcony to close the open doors, unaware of the straight line of flowers that magically grew in her wake due to her natural affinity for nature magic.

Each time her bare foot lifted from the floor, a fully-grown rose grew out of the wood in its wake. The flowers reflected her mood – roses with petals as black as pitch with thorns red as blood. Gatt turned to watch as the fragile blooms came to life behind her but only lasting seconds before withering up and dying, becoming nothing but smoke that got swept away on the breeze.

The Inquisitor closed the balcony doors and shivered from the chill in the room. She lit the candles scattered about her room and a fire in the fireplace with a wave of her fingers, magic sprouting from her fingertips and igniting the flames. A soft glow of light greeted her. Yet, the warmth she'd created in the room could not penetrate the ice that now surrounded her heart or ease the nervousness that made her hands shake.

Ellana rubbed her bare arms, trying to make them warm. She took a moment to steady her breath as she let her gaze land on Gatt who was now resting one hip on the corner of her desk, his arms crossed over his chest, his mossy green eyes running over her with great interest.

Uneasy, she skittered to the mantelpiece over the banked fire that glowed warmly in the fireplace and fiddled with the elven trinkets she'd brought with her from her Dalish clan or had picked up in her travels with the Inquisition.

What was she doing with Gatt? This was a mistake. What had she been thinking? There was yet time to renege. She could apologize profusely and beg his forgiveness while also asking him to leave her room and—

"Very interesting," Gatt said softly.

She cleared her throat. "What is?"

One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly. "You."

She watched her fingers fiddle with the miniature Dread Wolf statue on her mantle. "Me?"

His green eyes scanned her quarters. "This room speaks the most about you personally. It tells me much."

She turned her head toward him, her chin resting on her shoulder as her silver-grey orbs met his. "Really?"

He gave her a pointed look. "You forget I'm a spy."

Ellana turned around to face him, her shape silhouetted by the firelight. "So, what does my room tell you about me?"

Jade orbs met with silver. "Many things, but one in particular," he replied with a knowing smile. "It reveals itself over and over again in every little detail of this room. In fact, it clings to you personally, the tendrils of its existence meshed with you as ivy round a tree."

Not understanding she asked him what he meant. Gatt replied, but he didn't give her the type of answer she was expecting.

"The Qun is all about belonging," he said casually. "You are Dalish, and yet you no longer belong to a clan. You are a mage but live in no tower. You are an orphan and therefore have no family to belong to. You lead the Inquisition, but do not possess a sense of attachment to it nor kinship with the individuals within its walls." Curiosity reflected in his emerald eyes. "So, _kadan_ , where do you belong?"

Ellana's expression fell, becoming guarded at that very accurate inference. She didn't know how to answer that question. She didn't know where she belonged anymore and felt so out of place all the time. She didn't know her future, knew she didn't really have a future, not with the Mark on her hand slowly killing her.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, pulling her white-blonde hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

His brown head tilted, his lips set with an amused smile. "I think I was right before."

Her eyebrows pulled together. "What do you mean?"

"When I said you belong to him," Gatt clarified, his eyes turning soft and sympathetic. "Mr. Chip-on-his-shoulder."

She didn't respond. She didn't need to. She knew the answer was not only written all over her face, but also all over her room as well. If he could see her heart, he would see it written there too.

After that, they spoke comfortably and as friends until Gatt announced his exhaustion and desire to retire for the night. Ellana accompanied him to one of the spare bedrooms in the main keep where they said goodnight and he kissed her cheek before disappearing behind the wooden door.

In the throne room on her way back to her quarters, Ellana paused when she saw a light was still burning in the atrium. She stood frozen for a long time, staring at the slightly open door. So much had gone wrong. She hated where they were. Hated this horrible place of grey. It hadn't been like that in the beginning. In the beginning they'd just connected and there hadn't been any question or doubt about their relationship.

She belonged to Solas. Solas belonged to her.

It had been that simple.

She liked simple. She liked straightforward. Liked black and white, lived in black and white. She didn't like grey. She couldn't survive in grey.

After a certain amount of hesitation, the Inquisitor approached the atrium with caution. She paused for only a moment to take hold of a broken chunk of plaster and tear it away from the hole Solas had made in the wall. She looked at the plaster in her palm before trying to put it back over the fist-sized hole. She couldn't get it to fit and gave up, setting it down on the ground.

The Inquisitor paused in front of the slightly open door to the atrium. Her heart pounded as she lifted her hand to knock, but it froze in the air for a few seconds before pushing the door open instead, just enough so she could slip in silently.

Once inside, she came to a halt just within the threshold of the atrium. Her eyes scanned from Solas' desk to one of the couches pushed up against the wall but no sign of any elven occupant. The air was unnaturally still and quiet, smelling of drying paint on the walls and something else.

She sniffed the air suspiciously. It reeked of alcohol.

On silent bare feet, Ellana took a few more steps into the quiet room. She stopped again when she saw Solas sprawled on the other couch that had a white sheet covering it. Solas hadn't noticed her enter the room. He continued to silently, broodily stare at the ground and, if she stared, it was because she didn't know Solas like this.

His expression was shadowed in the dim light the single candle cast, but from what she could see, he looked terrible. He'd replaced the tunic she'd ripped but it was crumpled, tousled. His proud head was bowed. Scarlet tinted his pointed ears. Harsh lines of strain were grooved between his sharp nose and tightened mouth. He was pale as death with deep dark circles under his eyes that matched the black and blue bruises on the knuckles of his right hand where there were several gashes and dried blood. He looked as savaged as she felt. She'd never seen thirty minutes make such a difference to anybody.

And he had been drinking.

An empty wine bottle sat on the sofa beside him, another on the floor at his bare feet, and he was still drinking yet another bottle, holding its glass neck with a finger hooked around it. She'd never seen him drink before tonight. Had he really polished off all that liquor by himself in so short a period of time? Was he planning on drinking all night?

Ellana's breath caught when she realized, yes, Solas was planning on drinking all night. And that meant he wouldn't have stopped her. He would have sat here in the near dark, alone, drinking himself into oblivion while she slept with someone else.

Without warning Solas lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes.

He looked devastated.

Ellana was trembling. The look in Solas' eyes was flat and cold and dead. And somehow that terrified her. She had to resist an extraordinary urge to start explaining that nothing had happened with Gatt.

Solas released his breath in an audible hiss and his curiously unfocused gaze wandered slowly, almost carefully over her.

"Ah," Solas gritted out.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Ah?"

"So, you decide to reappear and turn your hawk-like gaze back to me, penetrating deep, disturbing the small amount of tranquility I was able to achieve in your absence," Solas uttered with withering contempt.

"You're drinking," she said dully.

"I tried to sleep, where I feel most at peace, but you… you won't let me sleep," Solas said more quietly, speaking more to himself now than to her with a slight slur to his words. He looked heavily at her, emotions flickering beneath his long lashes. "I dream of you. Only you. Nothing else. You have pushed from my mind any thought that isn't you."

The Inquisitor swallowed hard. "What are you—?"

"I needed to burn you out of my system." His voice cut through her words on a harsh whisper. "But it isn't working. You are in my very soul, tormenting me…" His slurred words in the common tongue suddenly morphed into slurred elvhen. He continued to speak but she couldn't understand him, speaking too fast for her to follow, speaking elvhen words she didn't recognize. It was Solas and yet he didn't sound like himself. He sounded wretched, distressed, miserable.

Solas took a long pull on the bottle in his hand until there was nothing left, and she watched his strong throat work on each swallow. "The People… they need me," he continued in a sullen tone as he tossed the empty wine bottle on the couch beside him to join the other one. "Duty, honor, restoration. I live them, breathe them, bleed them. There is no room for anything else," he said, speaking slowly, very distinctly pronouncing each word. "I planned everything, everything to the last detail… everything but you."

His head lifted sharply and she collided with startlingly intense blue eyes enhanced by spiky black lashes. "I live in torture thinking of the day I will have to walk away from you. The closer that day comes the more I suffer," he confessed with a raw edge to his voice.

"Solas…" The sympathetically in her voice was so thick, she had to stop.

His head wrenched to one side, as if a sharp pain went slicing through him. "I'm being torn apart." The harsh sounding words held a painful intensity.

She watched a muscle pulse in his clenched jaw before his chest lifted on a harsh inward drag of air. "I want so much from you. But what I want most is time. More time with you. More days filled with you in them," Solas uttered severely, his voice thick and tight with emotion. "Knowing I'm out of time… I'm in agony."

After a long pause, his eyes cut to her and she saw the deep haunting anguish in those azure depths. "Does it satisfy you to hear that, _vhenan_?"

"No," she croaked, heat burning the backs of her eyes.

A ragged little laugh, empty of humor, fell from his strained mouth. "Are you just blissfully unaware or, deep inside, is some part of you smiling and laughing at the sight of my pain, rejoicing even?"

Ellana shot him a sharp glance from mercury eyes. "You're going to want to watch that attitude, Solas."

"I guess I should watch my tone. I speak to a demigod, after all," he said with gritty derision, smirking darkly with dark humor. "The Chosen of Andraste."

His expression slowly hardened before her very eyes, those blue irises focused solely on her. "So, how was it?"

"How was what?" she questioned levelly.

Navy orbs flickered with angry torment. "Meaningless sex."

For an instant, her heart stopped beating and then exploded into frenzied action inside her chest.

His eyes flashed with something she couldn't decipher and his jaw tightened considerably. "Tell me, how does it feel?"

She frowned. "How does what feel?"

"The _hollowness_ ," he explained bitterly. "Nothing leaves you feeling more hollow than meaningless sex."

She looked down awkwardly at her shifting feet. "Solas… I—"

"Did you let him take you?" The rough-voiced enquiry brought her eyes up to clash with his, remorseful silver staring into tortured blue.

"Did you?" he persisted when she said nothing. "I want to know—I _need_ to know! Fenedhis," he choked, " _I have to know!_ "

She stared at him for a moment longer, then smiled a sad, watery smile, "How could I when I'm still tragically in love with you?"

She could see the almost visceral relief that seemed to pour out of him, but it was quickly replaced with something dark and gloomy. "How can you when you don't even know me?"

Despite the cut that response made, Ellana looked up at him, grey eyes firm and challenging. "I know you."

His eyes narrowed, danced away from hers, and skirted back as if he were wrestling with himself about something.

"No, you don't," he finally grumbled before standing up, although not so steadily. He turned his back on her and walked toward the door, lacking his usual grace and smoothness.

"You're not just an agent of Fen'Harel, are you?" she called after him, speaking her suspicions out loud, taking a stab in the dark.

Solas came to a complete stop.

That pause said everything.

The Inquisitor's breath caught in her throat and congealed there in a thick, suffocating ball. He too, had gone very still—no movement, no sign of anything. Silence thumped and throbbed in the electric atmosphere, the complete stillness all aiding and abetting that silence to wrap tight pressure bands around her chest, a roaring building inside her head.

"Ma harel lasa," she whispered.

"Only by omission," he replied softly, keeping his back to her.

"Ma lasa banal'ghilana," she countered in a small voice.

"What would you have had me say? That I was the great adversary in your people's mythology?" he snapped harshly, the back he kept to her rigid with tension, hands curled into fists at his sides.

Her heart strained against a sudden fierce tightening across her torso as she watched him slowly turn to face her but took no step in her direction, keeping that five feet of space between them. Even in the dim lighting the few candles in the room gave off she could see his eyes. They were glittering.

"What did you say to me earlier?" Solas asked with a sharp edge as he approached her. "May the Dread Wolf take you?"

Her heart gave a frantic leap behind her breastbone and every muscle pulled taut. She could feel the blood draining from her face, the sudden cold, clamminess of her flesh. She was in the grip of a shock so extreme she was paralyzed by it.

" _You're_ Fen'Harel. _You're_ the Dread Wolf." Her shaky voice was nearly inaudible at having her suspicions confirmed.

He looked at her, his eyes intense and swirling with numerous shades of blue, too many emotions there for her to name. "I was Solas first. Fen'Harel came later."

In the sudden silence that had fallen, Ellana was insanely aware of Solas' intent scrutiny. She could feel every breath she drew, the tightening in her lungs. A tiny frisson passed through her body and his gaze sharpened into a keen alertness that drove her rashly into speech.

"Ar lath ma." The softly spoken words were out before she could think twice about saying them. "No matter who you are, what you've done, or what you plan to do," she whispered, letting him know there was at least one other person in this world who accepted him, who loved him, for exactly who he was.

Solas winced. "Don't—please don't say things like that. Cut off a limb it would hurt less."

He turned as if to go, and she cried out, "Tel'ghilas!"

"It's kinder in the long run, as you can now begin to understand." It was the smallest whisper in the world, so quiet, so soft that the sound of her own breathing nearly covered it.

"You may be right, but I don't care," she confessed, mercury orbs shifting back and forth between deep ocean blue. "I should give you up. I know that. The reasons are endless. But I think of life without you… and I can't breathe." Her voice broke on the last word, her fist pressed firmly against her chest.

"You will learn." And with that, he turned on his heel, and started walking away.

Although she knew it was foolish, although she told herself she shouldn't say another word and just give up and accept the inevitable, Ellana heard herself whisper in a tear-soaked voice, "Solas… ma lath vir suledin."

One second he was what seemed to be oceans away from her and the next his hands were in her hair and his lips were on hers. She gasped and he swallowed her breath, as if to consume all the air from her lungs so she breathed nothing but him.

She reeled in shock, hands touching hesitantly against his shoulders as he kissed her with fire and a desperation that rocked her very soul.

It was wild and forceful, no sign of gentleness or tenderness. His fingers fisted and pulled at her hair, lips demanding with a bruising pressure, ravaging her mouth, the taste of rich red wine touching her tongue.

There was a near animalistic kind of frenzy about the way he touched her, his hands roaming ceaselessly over her back, through her short hair, down her arms. A soft gasp left her lips as he nipped at them, sucked them, then crushed them beneath his once more. He kissed her like he was a condemned soul and she was his only salvation.

Ellana had neither the experience nor the presence of mind to keep up with him. All she could do was follow his lead and take her cues all the while praying she would make it out alive.

Lips ground into teeth that clashed and bit at soft skin as he walked her a few feet until she bumped into the desk behind her in the middle of the room, knocking a few books off the surface to land on the floor with a loud sound that echoed in the stillness of the silence around them.

Both of them were breathing heavily when Solas pulled back for air, a fierce glitter in his eyes. She stared up at him, dazed and uncertain and wanting so much more. It was suddenly essential to her sanity to feel him lose himself completely in her, to lose all restraint and control.

"I already have," Solas husked, as if reading her thoughts, the words uttered in a tone that was slick with lust—smooth on top and grainy underneath.

Her fingers curled around the wolf's jawbone hanging around his neck, tugging on it to bring his mouth back down on hers.

With a guttural groan, his tongue forced through the barrier of her lips, sinking deep, forcing her lips wide apart.

His mouth never left hers as he roughly squeezed the backs of her thighs, his arms flexing, and her bare feet lifted easily off the ground. Instinctively, her arms stole around his neck as he set her down on the edge of his desk, papers fluttering to the floor around them.

His hands clasped her hips in a tight grip as he moved forward, his thighs spreading hers wide, her nightgown riding up until the the hard wedge of him pressed dead center between her legs. Her lower stomach tightened violently at the feel of him and Solas shuddered against her, muttering something in ancient elvhen against her lips that she didn't understand. He sounded shaken, unlike himself, as if drowning without hope of rescue.

"Don't stop," she panted, afraid that was what he was telling her, feeling so needy her skin felt too tight for her body.

With a hard flex of his expression, his forehead fell against hers and he looked her hard in the eyes. They were wild in a way she'd not seen before. The pupils were glazed, enlarged, so dark there was only a thin line of blue circling the black that was as bottomless as eternity.

"I know I should... but I can't." The husky edge of his words abraded her senses like velvet sandpaper.

Her mouth opened but her words caught in her throat when his fingers dug into her hipbones as a roll of his hips ground every hard inch of him against the soft notch between her legs. He groaned, "You have no idea how long its been."

She swayed on his desk, her eyelids fluttering on a soft moan, but he kept his forehead pressed firmly against hers, eyes never leaving hers, staring her dead in the eyes, burning a pathway to the very center of her being as he ground himself against her.

Abruptly, Solas stopped moving. He pulled back slightly to look down at her, his expression a dark mask, the skin drawn tight across his cheekbones, emphasizing the harshness of his face. "Ir abelas."

"What?" she asked absently, her lust-fogged mind clearing slightly when he shoved her nightgown up to her waist.

Her breath left her in one burst when she heard fabric tear as Solas yanked at her smalls, ripping them, the white cotton drifting to the floor between his bare feet.

"I have to have you." His voice was rough and shaken, apologetic.

Dimly she registered the slap of his leather belt against her thigh as he wrenched it off.

Her breath feathered in and out of her lungs in insufficient drags while she felt his hand move between her legs, the back of his hand inadvertently brushing against her heated flesh as he urgently unlaced his pants.

Her eyes bulged as clarity settled in. He was going to take her right here on his desk! With her legs spread awkwardly off the side and an ocularium shard poking her in the ass?

No, that wasn't right.

Creators, they were both still fully clothed!

Where was the romance? Where were the words of affection? Where were the promises to each other? Her first time was meant to be gentle and tender with his lips whispering those three words for the first time in her ear, three words she so desperately wanted to hear from him. She wanted there to be more than just lust. She wanted this, wanted him, they just needed to slow down and get to her quarters, to her bed.

"Let's go to my quarters and pick up where we—" Ellana stammered.

"I can't," he groaned the last word through clenched teeth, as if in dire pain.

With a rough sound of impatience his hands grasped her hips and hauled her right to the edge of the desk, her elbow knocking against a neat stack of papers and sending them spilling across the desk and floor. Panic lodged itself in her system, preventing her next breath as she got the barest glimpse of the only part of him that was naked. She instantly tensed at the exact same moment she felt him press against her entrance, instinctive fear of the unknown gripping her.

"Solas—" A cry tore from her lips as he pushed into her with a desperation that verged on the tormented.

The breath ripped brutally from her chest as unexpected pain sliced through her. She had been more than ready for him, but her tender tissues still burned and stretched at the sudden intrusion of her body, her fingernails biting into his shoulders.

The drugging lust she'd been drowning in only moments ago was replaced entirely with the colossal, agonizing pressure pushing insistently into her. Her jaw clenched and her eyes watered, feeling as though she were being torn in half from the inside out.

A deep, raw sound escaped him as he pushed deeper inside her, but then paused when he noticed how tense she was, and panted, "Do you want me to stop?"

She licked her lips. "No."

"Then relax." It was a deep, strangled sound, the hard set of his jaw tightening as he spoke. "It will only hurt if you don't relax."

She kept as still as possible while her inner muscles fluttered in discomfort around him. She breathed deep, trying to coax herself into accepting and adjusting to him. Her sudden cry mingled with his low curse when he sank even deeper into her, as far as he could go until she was completely full.

"Stop clenching me so tightly." The syllables rose and fell disjointedly, his breath coming out in ragged pants against her face as he held himself still within her despite the tremors moving throughout his taut limbs and strained back. "Ellana, you need to relax… _please_."

She took several deep breaths, but no matter how hard she tried to relax her tensed body, the uncomfortably stretched sensation remained. She shifted on the desk, trying to find a better position, unknowingly clenching even tighter around him.

His body flexed, every muscle taut, a grimace contorting his features. Then his control gave way, leaving him to groan an apology before his hips suddenly snapped forward against hers and he began pumping into her, hard and fast.

She took two fistfuls of his tunic, hanging on for dear life as he drove in and out of her with an uncontrolled urgency.

Solas abruptly froze over her, immediately sensing something was wrong. His chest heaved as he struggled to draw fresh air into his lungs, his breathing coming hard across her face.

"Don't do this to me, _vhenan_ ," he pleaded, a tremor she'd never heard before threading through his tortured voice. "Don't let me ruin this – don't let me enjoy this alone."

He pulled back as far as he could while still remaining inside of her. "I want this to be good for you," he uttered in a tone so hoarse and ravaged it was barely comprehensible. "I have dreamed a hundred different ways of having you for far too long to ruin it now."

Calloused hands ran down the sides of her thighs to hook behind her knees. He lifted her bent knees up to his ribs, tilting her hips up and thrusting inside her, changing his angle, and…

Ellana sucked in oxygen, feeling her first ribbon of pleasure curling low in her belly. His long fingers flexed on the crooks of her knees as he reared back and then buried himself inside her to the hilt, pushing a moan past her lips, ebbing the pain with a liquid heat that spread outwards from her core, causing her entire body to break out in a fine sheen of sweat.

The discomfort lingered but was now mixed with sensations that felt good, and a masochistic part of her rejoiced in the hurt. It seemed she couldn't have anything good with Solas without suffering for it.

His lips come down on hers – hot and hungry - taking in every single one of the sounds she was making. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth, deftly stroking her in ways that made her twist feverishly on his desk.

Seeking even more intimate contact, she slid her arms around his neck, holding him as tight as she could, his tongue as far into her mouth as he could get it. He came into her each time as deep as he could possibly go, as if he was trying to reach for something deep within her. Possessing every bit of her. All that she was. And she wondered how much of herself was left for him to take when she didn't even feel like she belonged to herself anymore, but that all of her was his.

Her legs hitched, curled higher, and drew him in deeper, her ankles locked together behind his back, wanting to pull him completely into her.

" _Solas_ ," she breathed, wanting to say his name out loud while he was inside of her, never wanting this to end.

He groaned, the deep vibration in his chest resonating against her breastbone, burying his face in the curve of her neck. He pulled out and pushed back into her, his breath shallow and rapid against the slick skin of her throat as his rhythm intensified, reducing her world to pure sensation so exquisite she lost track of her own name.

Her hips bucked up to meet his every thrust, desperate to feel the next. Waves of aching fire lapped at her, each one stronger in their intensity until it was all too much, too powerful, too overwhelming.

Suddenly, helplessly, her entire body went rigid, her vision blurring as spasms and contractions of euphoria swept through her. Solas' pace had sped up, quickening with urgency. She felt the tremors of his muscles beneath her palms, every inch of him shaking, then with a stifled groan he rocked against her, releasing hotly into her.

For a long time afterwards they didn't move while they filled the room with their heavy breathing. Still pressed deep insider her, Solas loosened his death grip on her hips and pressed his forehead against her damp one, appearing drained of all energy. Feeling weak as water, she closer her eyes, holding him close as she pressed her forehead back against his.

Once their breathing evened out, Ellana slowly opened her eyes, looking at him with his face so close to hers since his forehead rested against hers, and what she saw… she would never forget the look of angry, guilty remorse that twisted his features into a hard grimace.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart aching, for she could see it. Now that it was over he was regretting it. _Immensely_. The mere sight of that look on his face shredded her heart to ribbons. She had to close her eyes to escape it.

With a curse under his breath she felt him ease out of her. She winced at his withdrawal, cold air hitting her fevered skin. After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes and turned her head.

She found him sitting on the couch, his head buried in his hands, his pants still unlaced but covering himself. Though she couldn't see his face, she could feel his repentance. The air around him was thick with the horrible mixture of shame, guilt, and regret. She could feel his hatred, the entirety of it directed inward, and it was breaking her heart.

"Solas?" His name came out breathy and hesitant, full of question.

His head remained in his hands, but she saw the way his fingers curled into fists that he dug into his eyes. His body grew taut, his shoulders stiffening, lifting to his ears.

"Say something… anything," her voice was thin as paper, threatening to split right down the middle.

"This should not have happened." His quiet voice cracked on the words that thickly coated his throat, evidence of the depth of his self-reproach. " _I've betrayed myself_."

A pain that felt almost physical hardened to a lump that lodged itself behind her ribs her at his words.

"So… what we… it didn't mean anything?" Her voice shook with each word. "Didn't change anything?"

Solas lifted his head and she found herself gazing into despairing blue irises as his hands fell limply to hang between his knees. He watched her with deep-seated shame and remorse, doing nothing to mask the heartache there.

"It meant _everything_." Something sharp and pained passed over his face, but he hardened his features. "But changed nothing."

With three words, the little breath Ellana had left was stolen. His words struck so deep that it actually felt as if they might have made her bleed somewhere.

"I thought… hoped… it would change the outcome." Her voice was a thin thread of barely recognizable sound.

"Nothing can," Solas said weakly, his voice just sliding away.

Hot, sharp shards of flaming glass hit the backs of her throat and her eyes. With him she always felt like a desperate woman trying to catch sunlight between her fingers.

"It was irresponsible and selfish of me," he raked out rawly in a grim undertone. "Let that be enough."

For what felt like forever, she watched Solas as if from behind a pane of glass. The silence grew heavier with each second, making it even more apparent that what just happened was a horrible mistake.

Everyone had a weakness, and he'd already told her what his was.

 _Her_.

And she'd pushed him beyond all mortal limits. She'd made Solas lose his careful control, had driven him beyond the realm of discipline and restraint and sanity, beyond remorse and guilt and self-blame, to a world where only sensation, lust, and the driving need for release reigned. There was no relationship, no tenderness, no love. Suddenly she felt empty, cold, hollow.

_Sin._

That's what it had been. Nothing more.

After all, wanting a woman in a moment of physical weakness and lust was certainly not the same as wanting for a lifetime. She knew that.

She faced that reality—feeling lost in the gap between hope and self-delusion. For a split-second she felt so corrosively bitter that it tore up the lining of her stomach. Reality had never been less welcome.

Ellana slid carefully off the desk, wincing at the twinges of pain between her legs. Her legs wobbled when her feet touched the ground. She stood on shaky feet, her cheeks burning with humiliation at the telltale stickiness between her thighs, the scent of him still clinging to her skin, the taste of him still in her mouth.

With fumbling fingers she adjusted the thin straps of her nightgown and pushed the skirt back into place, her head filled with thoughts of mortification and self-reproach.

 _What have I done?_ she thought bitterly. _What have I done to myself?_

Ellana glanced at Solas and had to look away again just as quickly. "This was a mistake." Tears lashed her lowered eyelids. "I should just go."

Every natural instinct spurred Ellana to flight. She reached the door without the awareness that she had even moved her feet.

"Ellana…" The syllables of her name sounded so raw and shredded, thick with guilt.

She paused with her hand on the door handle, then looked over her shoulder at him.

"You know something, Solas? You were right," she managed to say with tears in the achy pitch of her voice. "Meaningless sex does leave you feeling hollow."

She turned and fled to the safety of her room, not once looking back, not even when she heard the sound of glass shattering behind her - an empty bottle of wine thrown violently at the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ma harel lasa: You lied to me.
> 
> Ma lasa banal'ghilana: You misled me.
> 
> Ar lath ma: I love you.
> 
> Tel'ghilas: Don't go.
> 
> Solas… ma lath vir suledin: Solas… my love will persevere
> 
> Author's Note: If you haven't noticed, I changed the name of this story. I thought the last title really only spoke to the first chapter and I think the new title relates to more of the whole story. Also, fyi, the Inquisitor hears the Well of Sorrows in this chapter and what she hears is the backmasking you hear in the game when your player is at the Temple of Mythal and drinks from the well. Oh, and the beginning part of the opening quote is taken from Emily Carroll's Through the Woods.
> 
> This chapter has a soundtrack: Coming Down by Halsey.


	7. Greed

" _We must win the next battle against the Forgotten Ones, or all is lost," Sylaise said to the other Evanuris._

" _We need him," Ghilan'nain stated._

" _He won't help. He never does," June said. "He's a rebel."_

" _But a powerful rebel,"_ _Sylaise admitted._

" _He thinks we don't care for our people, that we don't protect them," Ghilan'nain added._

 _"It doesn't matter,"_ _Elgar'nan chimed in_ _. "We have nothing he wants_ _."_

" _What he wants is to make us pay for our so-called misdeeds," June scoffed._

 _Sylaise pressed,_ _"If we can show him we're prepared to bury the hatchet—"_

" _He'll just pick it up and beat you to death with it,"_ _June_ _slotted in._

 _Ghilan'nain_ _spoke, "He sees us as would-be gods, and the People slaves instead of our devout followers."_

 _Sylaise sighed._ _"In his eyes we're merely heartless tyrants."_

" _When it is he who has no heart," June said._

 _Andruil nodded and spoke solemnly,_ _"During the last battle…_

_I stood in firelight, surrounded by the enemy,_

_most of my army dead around me…_

_I looked up through the smoke and ash…_

_I saw him leaning casually against a tree._

_He just watched as my soldiers were slaughtered in the valley below him._

_I looked upon him and shouted, 'Save us!'_

_And on the wind soaked in blood and ash_ _he whispered…_

' _When did I say I would save you?'_ _"_

 _June_ _sneered, "Of all the gods, I hate him the most."_

 _"That is no god,"_ _Elgar'nan amended_ _. "That is a monster."_

_"That," Mythal said softly. "Is Fen'Harel."_

The Inquisitor woke with a jolt to her dimly lit room. The only illumination in her quarters came from the fire in the hearth, having died down after chasing away the winter chill, and it barely reached the centrally placed bed but what did manage to reach cast a warm, smoldering glow.

She had been asleep in her bed for a short while, she guessed, for it was still dark outside her windows and rain was now beating against the roof. It was a torrential downpour outside and jagged lightning lit up the midnight sky.

For a long time, Ellana laid very still, watching raindrops slip through the dark clouds to idly spiral downward in a free fall before splattering against the glass of her windows and roll down in streaks.

She shifted beneath her sheets and found the unfamiliar ache between her legs was gone, thanks to the health potion she'd taken before going to bed.

Trying to find a comfortable position, she rolled over onto her side, taking a deep breath, but then tensed as she heard the sound of breathing.

_Breathing?_

Someone was in her room.

Every nerve she owned became suddenly taut with alarm when the bed shifted as a body lowered itself onto it behind her. She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath—inhaling the scent of cold air, dying embers, rain-soaked glass, and something else. Paint? She breathed deeper. Yes, fresh paint mixed with the scent of tea and herbs.

_Solas._

Ellana's heart was palpitating rapidly in her chest when she felt the sheets lift up behind her. Solas' arm slid under her pillow and the other arm wrapped tightly around her body. Wordlessly, he pressed his palm against her stomach and pulled her back against him. Every muscle in her body stiffened to the point of paralysis at the sudden contact, the warmth of his hand soaking through the thin cotton fabric of her white nightgown.

For a long time he remained perfectly still and silent behind her, so silent she could hear her own breathing sounding unnaturally loud, even amongst the heavy rainfall. She wasn't sure if Solas was about to turn her onto her back and kiss her. She wasn't even sure if he was about to say goodbye and leave Skyhold forever. The only thing she was certain about was how good it felt with his chest rising and falling against her back with each breath he took.

His chest was hard, she noted, like marble. How many statues had been forged in his image—the Elvhen God of Rebellion, Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf? How many women had worshipped him? Had he loved any of them? Had he ever married? Did he have any children? Any family? Were they all gone? Was he all alone?

There was the simultaneous flash of lightning and crack of thunder outside her bedroom.

"Enaste dennar ma?" Solas whispered, his breath stirring her hair, raising the hairs at her neck.

Ellana suppressed a shiver as that cultured, low-pitched tone with its ancient elvhen accent whispered over her skin, muffled slightly as he held her as tight as he could against him.

She swallowed. "You want to be forgiven?"

"Don't we all?" he murmured into her hair.

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Before… I went a little crazy." His voice was thick with what she could only guess was a deep-sated need to put right what he saw as his own failure. "I am ashamed of myself for taking my—feelings out on you."

"We both went a little crazy," she admitted, her breath rattling in her dry throat.

"I never meant that to happen." She tensed against him with hurt and his voice lowered and softened almost imperceptibly as he explained, "It wasn't meaningless. Nothing with you could ever be meaningless. But I do regret that it happened. I lost my head, acted selfishly, and was rough with you. Words cannot express my shame." His voice was coarse, roughened by remorse. "If it was ever to happen, it was not supposed to happen that way. Not the first time. I wanted to be gentle, to give you what you wanted, what you deserved, so that you'd respect me afterwards—and yourself—nothing at all like—"

"Why are you here, Solas?" Ellana somehow managed to get out past the thick, tight feeling in her throat.

"Because I am  _greedy_ ," he breathed hotly, his voice full of self-recrimination.

The silence came back. There was no sound but the rain tapping on the roof and glass, and the occasional rumble of thunder.

After a long pause, Solas exhaled heavily against her nape, his palm hot against her stomach. "I did not foresee myself coming to care for anyone in this world. My being with you… it isn't right..." His words were so quiet they were nearly drowned out by the rain lashing wildly at the windows. His arms began to tighten, holding her against him with such intensity and need. "…but losing you would…"

Ellana slipped her fingers through the hand that was resting against her stomach and she squeezed it. "I forgive you."

She felt him instantly relax against her, his relief and gratitude evident in the sigh that ruffled her hair. Solas turned his head so his face pressed into the curve of her neck. "How can you?"

Her heart began to pound like the rain on the window, the previously even rhythm of her breathing shattering when his mouth began to trail slowly, oh so slowly, down the column of her neck.

"Because you're the big bad wolf, you mean?" she asked as she reached up behind her to clasp the nape of his neck, pressing his hot mouth deeper into her throat.

"Yes," he uttered bleakly. "Even though I am the villain?"

She bit back a moan from the feel of the drag of his lips on the flesh of her throat.

"Tell me… why did you choose to be this?" she questioned breathlessly as his hands roamed slowly, expertly, over her nightgown.

"Be what?" he rasped, his teeth lightly scraping against the side of her neck.

Her eyelids fluttered shut when his mouth unerringly found the pulse at her throat, and gently closed his lips over it. "The Dread Wolf."

"Choice had nothing to do with it," he answered in a self-deprecating tone. "This is what I am."

Ellana rolled over onto her back, her chin coming to rest on her shoulder. Soft grey eyes collided with dark navy that were staring at her so ardently she thought the very intensity of his gaze would pierce her skin. They were so close she could've counted his eyelashes.

She licked her lips and lifted her hand to press her palm over the beat of his heart.

"You are not a monster," she said with unwavering conviction.

He clenched his eyes shut, his chest expanding against her hand as he released a barely audible breath, "Ma serannas."

His eyes opened to watch his hand lift to twine his fingers in her short, white-blonde hair. For a moment that was all he did, rubbing it, savoring the texture, letting it glide through his fingers. She knew he loved her hair and she felt a twinge of regret for cutting off so much of it.

Then he turned his attention to Ellana herself, lowering his gaze to her face, and his hand, too, trailing his fingertips over her cheek, touching her lightly, so lightly, just skimming his fingertips along her cheekbone with the utmost piety.

"You are so… _beautiful_ ,” he murmured, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

She breathed deeply as his fingers trailed down the line of her neck, along the bare skin of her collarbone to the dip at the base of her throat.

A flash of lightning lit the night sky outside her window, illuminating her bedchamber for a split second in silvery-white light as Solas leaned over her, placing one hand on the pillow beside her head. The wolf's jawbone that hung around his neck fell to lie heavy against her breastbone.

Ellana slid her hands up his back, feeling the muscles flex and ripple beneath smooth skin, before dragging her hands along the curves of his shoulders, up the sides of his neck to lightly graze his pointed ears. At her soft touch, his lips parted, emitting a broken breath, his eyes tethering hers, looking at her in a way she'd never seen before.

"Mythal and the others used to accuse me of having no heart. I know now that they were right. My heart lives outside my chest." Solas slowly dipped his head to her, bringing his face close to hers. His mouth hovered just above hers, heating her lips, caressing them with his breath. "That's what you are— _ma vhenan_."

Her hand wrapped around the back of his head as she brought his mouth down to hers.

He kissed her slowly, reverently, deliberately. Soft and deep, with a sweetness that was almost unbearable, full of a feeling so rare she would kill for it.

His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue sliding slowly inside her mouth. Her lips parted under his as his fingers gently slipping the thin straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. She felt an abrupt coolness as he gently tugged her nightgown down and bared her chest to his gaze. He managed to drag his lips sideways enough to murmur her name against her cheek. His mouth was warm and moist, and so necessary to her mouth that she chased after it.

His hand slid down the side of her neck, fingers dragging down to explore the valley between her breasts. She arched into him and he filled his palm with the small swell, slowly kneading, before pressing his thumb against her breast and dragging it in a deep circle around her nipple.

Solas sat up swiftly, removing his clothing to reveal a torso that was lean and smooth, narrowing down to trim hips. She watched him come over her again, slowly raising the hem of her nightgown. The air was cool on her bare thighs, his hand warm as it came to rest on her knee. His searching hand grew bolder, making slow kneading circles along the length of her bare leg, her heart beating so hard she thought it might burst through her ribcage.

“You make me want to forget about the past,” he confessed, his breathing pattern audibly fractured. " _Sarlin’ara_ —it's you, only you, that I'm lost to myself, that I'm not the Dread Wolf, that I'm no one, nothing but yours."

Ellana was dazedly aware of her legs spreading and his hand moving upward purposefully, gliding his fingers between her thighs, causing her to suck in a sharp breathe, her chest rising with it.

Holding her gaze, with a single finger, he touched her. Her breath filtered out on a ragged exhale, the muscles of her belly and thighs clenching involuntarily. He watched with slitted eyes as he stroked her, drawing the entire length of his finger slowly along her.

Frissons ran through her when his fingers gently slid inside her, lingering, only to withdraw and stroke her slick flesh again. Her hips strained uncontrollably toward him as he stroked her again, this time probing deep inside her, and her core suddenly ignited, like oil catching fire.

That was all it took. Her torso arched into a shuddering bow when it happened, her fingers tangled in the sheets, a thousand nerves screaming with relief. As she came back to earth she noticed the air suddenly smelled of something wonderful—rain from the overnight shower mixed with a strong floral scent.

Ellana's eyelids fluttered as her gaze wandered around her room to find what was responsible for the perfume. Dazed, she discovered that she'd inadvertently transformed the four bedposts of her bed into tree trunks with fresh green leaves sprouting from them. The tree trunks were joined from above by an arched set of delicate branches to form a natural canopy with twisting vines of ivy and wisteria. The bedframe and headboard had been magically altered into two entwined branches covered in aubretia flowers in shades of purple and crimson.

"Your conscious connection to the Fade is astonishing." Her gaze shifted to find Solas staring down at her with an expression akin to awe and admiration on his regal face. "You are not of this world."

Her lips curved softly. "Neither are you."

Thunder rumbled all around them as he pulled the hem of her nightgown up and over her head, tossing it to the floor.

No one had ever seen her naked before and Ellana abruptly felt shy and self-conscious. But the insecurity she felt faded away when his hooded gaze smoldered down the length of her, a perusal that could not be deemed lazy, as nothing that this man did ever seemed to match that description. It was focused and overwhelming,  _intense_ , the kind of look that smoked all areas it touched with little tongues of flame. She was suddenly no longer embarrassed about being naked in front of him, not when he looked at her like that, like he thought she was the most exquisite thing that ever existed.

Ellana reached for him, unable to focus on anything but her need to be as close to Solas as his skin. But he surprised her by sliding his arm tightly around her waist and flipping them over so he was the one directly under her now.

Ellana adjusted her legs on either side of him, and her eyes locked with his, neither looking away as they  _sank_  into each other's bodies.

Solas made a soft tortured sound in his chest, a slight furrow between his dark eyebrows, as if he was in pain. She exhaled a faltering breath as her muscles shifted and stretched around him and she was thankful that this time her body was already adjusting to the bold incursion of his and the sharp edge of pain was already beginning to fade.

"Have you ever been married?" She bit her lip as soon as the question was out.

His hands dragged up her thighs to close tight around her waist. "No."

"Any children?"

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Not that I know of."

"How many women have you had?" Ellana asked, suddenly curious, while she traced each sculpted muscle of his chest with her fingertips, running her hands down the smooth lines of his ribcage.

"Too many to count," Solas answered roughly.

Though she knew it was unreasonable to feel hurt by that, she couldn't help the way her face twisted into a stricken look.

She moved to take her hands away from his chest when he slapped his bigger hands over hers, trapping them there.

"You're not asking the right question, lethallan." His eyes shifted back and forth between hers. "Ask me how many women I'll have after you."

"H-How many?"

" _Banal asha_ —None," he swore quietly with vehement force.

Her eyes held his as she moved her hips awkwardly, hesitant and uncertain, the single movement igniting her body and fevering her skin. She did it again, her body gliding sensuously over his, like a slow, rolling wave. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and his lids fluttered, like he was about to pass out as he rocked against her, fingers clasping her hips. With each movement the heat between them grew, causing their bodies to glisten in a thin sheen of sweat, the only sound in the room the rain belting down upon the roof and the rough drag of their breath.

Creators help her, this felt so good, she thought she would die of it.

A flash of lightning cut across the sky, thunder following hard on its heels. Her hips circled and moved over him, rising and falling. Solas stared up at her, probing her face the entire time, as if nothing could tear his gaze away. He watched her face closely, fixedly, studying every detail, every subtle shift of every expression she made.

_He watched her make him hers._

She kept her eyes focused on his through the water that seemed to be filling them, wanting to remember the way he was looking at her right now for the rest of her life, refusing to blink.

"Solas… how long?" she breathed. "How long have you loved me?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and his mouth opened, but instead of an answer he gave a guttural groan when her body undulated.

"Before the Temple of Mythal?"

His breath hissed between clenched teeth as his body bucked against the hold he kept on her hips.

"Before the Winter Palace?"

He said nothing, the luxuriant swoop of his eyelashes shading his eyes from her.

Her breath came in short pants. "Before… Adamant Fortress?"

Silence.

Ellana struggled to draw another breath past her tight throat, a certain amount of effort involved as she struggled to continue her questions with her movements.

"Before… Crestwood… before we met Hawke?" she panted, oxygen hard to catch.

"Yes,” he managed through the raggedness of his inhalations, the single word sounding torn from the very depths of him.

She swallowed. "Before… before Skyhold?"

"Before then," he uttered brokenly, breathing in a hard, raw rhythm, his fingers digging into the flesh enveloping his hips.

She expelled a fractured breathy moan as she rocked against him. "H-Haven?"

His hand lifted, taking hers. Their fingers entwined, folding and caressing, then interlocking.

"The first time I touched you…" Softly, almost achingly. "Right then… I felt the whole world change."

She smiled down at him, loving the way the space between her fingers was filled with his. "Sweet talker."

Solas sat up swiftly, curling his body up to hers, his stomach muscles rippling with the movement. His hand slid into her hair to hold her still as he claimed her mouth with his own in a benediction, as if he was trying to give her his very soul in that kiss.

" _Ar lath ma, _vhenan__ ," he whispered, his mouth still touching hers, his lips caressing her with every word. "You were mine from the first moment I touched you."

His words seeped into her skin, broke through the shadow of ache and plunged into the softest and most vulnerable part of her. It was the first time in her whole life that somebody had told her that they loved her.

Blinking away tears, Ellana croaked, "Say it again."

He fell backward onto the bed, taking her with him. "Ar lath ma," he repeated, his arms instantly banded around her like steel. "If you had been born in my time, I would have found you, and I would have loved you then just as I love you now."

She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him, and his hand came up to cradle the back of her head to press her mouth deeper to the skin of his throat as he thrust into her, urgent now. Up and into her, over and over, until she fell off the end of the earth and he poured himself into her with uncontrollable shudders.

Ellana lay heavy on his chest, panting into the curve of his neck, her entire body vibrating from the aftershocks, his arms wrapped around her.

They stayed like that, still intimately connected, listening to the rain come down in torrents and their breathing as it evened out, waiting for reality to come filtering back in. It was the calm after the storm with another storm hovering in the near distance, threatening to roll in depending on what they both chose to do or say next.

"How long?" Her words were a mere whispery sound.

“How long what?”

She shivered slightly when she felt a finger slowly trace the shape of each separate vertebra in her spine from her nape to the small of her back.

"How long will you love me?"

" _Bellanaris_ —I am not a man who does not love forever." The commitment – conviction - in his voice, the rippling possessive warmth in his tone, the unwavering sense of purpose engulfing her…

Outside there cracked a bright flash of lightning that was followed closely by a rolling clap of thunder. Ellana's blood turned suddenly cold as a horrible thought hit her. A crushing tightness filled her chest, squeezing out her breath as she whispered, "But you're still going to leave, aren't you?"

Solas went completely still beneath her and a new tension began to suck the oxygen out of the air. He didn't say a word, didn't move, and his chest wasn't rising and falling anymore, like he wasn't even breathing.

His continued silence left Ellana to use up the next few suffocating seconds to draw her own assumptions, which she did with a shuddering gasp of dismay. She moved to pull away, to read his face, but he kept his arms around her and followed her to stay inside her, as if loath to separate.

"Yes."

That one word hit her like a whip across her flesh. Tears stung hot and dry against the backs of her eyes as she realized she hadn't changed the Dread Wolf's heart. With only one word he could virtually flay the skin from her bones.

She died a little when she realized this was something she would never experience again after he left to walk his Din'anshiral. She couldn't stop the tears. She couldn't stop her heart from breaking when she knew she couldn't have this with him for the remainder of her days.

When a single tear fell onto his skin, his arms tightened around her. "I know,  _vhenan_ ," he whispered and she caught the faint roughening of pain in his voice. "I know."

A red fury began to fill her head and her vision, her hurt, anger, and dismay simmering on the point of eruption as the prospect of life without him loomed like a death sentence.

She placed her palms on his chest and pushed herself up to throw a fulminating glare into his face, her gaze hard and unforgiving.

"What right do you have to leave?" she gritted out. "If you do, you'll doom us both. What kind of life will either of us live if you— _dammit!_ " she choked on a sob. "Do you really wish to be alive without your heart?" It was a raw cry, scraped from a deep bank of emotion. "Because that's what will happen to both of us if you leave, Solas. You will be sentencing us both to a half-life!"

Solas clenched his eyes shut, his face contorted and aggrieved.

Ellana immediately moved away from him, shaking her head, words lodged in her throat as she sat back on her heels, livid that he could look like his world was more torn than hers.

"Is that what you want, Solas?" she demanded with frightening vehemence, feeling the slick glide of wet tears fall from her eyes down her cheeks.

"Tell me!" she shrieked when he said nothing.

His eyes slowly opened and she felt her heart crack. Diamond dewdrops glistened behind spiky black lashes, tears shimmering in the shallows of his gaze, and in their depths she saw a never-ending storm of pain no living thing was equipped to bear.

His hands reached out to take her by the shoulders, crushing her against his bare chest, determined to close the distance between them. He quickly buried his face in her hair, holding her so tightly, his arms gripping her almost painfully.

"I will be with you  _always_." The strangled words, spoken in anguish, tore at her heart, ripped through the tight grip she had on her anger. "Every night I will be there, waiting for you. I will be waiting in your room, in your bed. There you will find me every night. Every second of your dreams, I will be with you.  _I will never leave you, vhenan_ ," he swore, his voice steadfast in its conviction.

She sniffled, "You offer me dreams, but dreams would just remind me that what we had did exist, and that I've lost it forever. I'll only want to escape them, to find you in reality," she murmured in a wobbly voice into his shoulder. "I don't want to only see you in dreams. I don't want to yearn for you with an aching heart. I want to be with you,  _really_  be with you." Her fingers dug into the lean muscles of his back as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I don't want to let you go. I don't even think I can. Not even for a second. And I cannot bear to think of you alone."

"I love you— _bellanaris_." His arms were strung so tightly around her that she could hardly breath. "I'm sorry I cannot be with you longer." The words were uttered so quietly, so thickly, as if there were tears coating each syllable.

A sharp, stabbing pain pierced her torso, something vital breaking inside her.

"Why?" she uttered faintly through tears of emotional exhaustion and the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. "Why are you trying to break what's left of my heart?"

He buried his face into the curve of her neck. "If I'm breaking your heart, then in breaking it, I am also breaking mine." He made a sound, like a groan of agony as his body curled into hers. "Wounds on you create scars on me."

He was shaking against her now, violently, his shoulders jerking sharply as if he were crying, but he made no sound and there were no tears. She held him so tight her arms shook, attempting to alleviate the anguish that wracked them both.

After a long time, Solas pulled back and took hold of her face, forcing her away so he could look at her. Grief-stricken blue eyes that were rimmed red held hers, so tortured it hurt staring into them, his expression so raw that her heart wanted to break at the sight of it.

"The path to restoration can be cruel, ruthless, and unforgivable. I knew this when I set upon it. To achieve atonement, a bargain must be made—" The words stopped when he was forced to swallow. "I traded my soul a long time ago so I could undo the damage I'd done." Some hair clung to her forehead and his long fingers gently pulled the sweat-soaked strands away, tucking then behind her ear with an air of misery. "I will save the elvhen people, even if it means  _this_  world must die."

"Yes, I understand why you think things have to happen this way,” she snapped. “Yes, I understand your reasons for causing me this much pain. But understanding alone doesn't magically cure the heartbreak—" Her voice broke; she struggled to recover it. "Or the knowledge that from the very beginning you've been planning to let me  _die_."

His head jerked to the side as though she'd slapped him. She watched his throat work as he tried to swallow, his hands falling away from her face as though they weighed a ton. When he looked back at her, his expression was sullen and brooding darkness filtered through the blue of his eyes.

"You were always going to die," Solas said in a tender, hoarse, far away voice. "The Mark… it will eventually kill you. I have tried  _everything_. There is nothing I can do. I can only delay it." He shook his head dejectedly. "Your fate was sealed the moment you picked up the orb. I'm sorry."

The words fell into the room like the drop of a guillotine. "The orb is yours, isn't it?"

He grimaced and lowered his eyes from hers. "Yes," he confessed, like a sinner to a priest. "I planned to recover my orb and use it to enter the Fade. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time… the world of the elves."

That shot sparks down her backbone. "I never though of you as someone who would do that, Solas. Playing with so many people's lives—you might as well be a god, one of the Evanuris you despise so much."

He winced, like he didn't want to be hit with that. "I told you I didn't want you to see what I must become." He turned his gaze back to hers, eyes now hard with resolution. "But my path is set."

A sudden frozen stillness grabbed hold of her that barely allowed her enough room to breathe, her emotions a tornado of dangerous debris.

She shook her head. "You are a hard soul to save."

"It's too late for that," he said in a thick voice of bitter anguish.

She felt her face go prickly and hot as a sudden sense of panic overwhelmed her.

"Solas, don't forsake me!" she cried in stricken protest.

She watched his mouth clench and his chest move up and down on a fierce tug of air.

"Whatever happens…" His eyes lowered, soot-black eyelashes flickering against fiercely jutting cheekbones. "Know that what we had was real."

The word  _had_  fell like a granite block, crushing her beneath its weight, cracking her clean in two, her chest lifting and dropping in a single wrenching gasp of pain. But with it was an unholy animosity born inside of her, growing, swelling until her limbs began to tremble with the force of it.

"If you forsake me… if you leave me—I'll never forgive you!" she cried, her voice cracking on a sudden upsurge of impassioned indignation, scalding tears burning her eyes. "Do you hear me, Dread Wolf!"

That brought his eyes snapping up to hers in time with a burst of lightning.

"You walk out on me—I will hate you," she bit out like a curse. "I will hate you for making me love you, for  _having_  to love you, for throwing it all away when you could have taken me with you."

"I can't do that to you,  _vhenan_ ," Solas murmured so softly, almost unintelligibly. "You are right to be angry."

Ellana shoved her finger in his bare chest as she hissed at him, "Know this, Fen'Harel—you abandon me and I'll fight you - and I'll destroy you - even though I'm going to pray that you can't be destroyed because I can't imagine living in a world without you in it. But I will fight you nonetheless. I will fight you so you won't be able to reach your goals. I will fight to ruin every plan you make. I will fight to take everything you want away from you. I will hurt you through the only thing that can hurt you—through your pride." Her eyes seared into his with unshakeable purpose, burning like fire-coated steel. "I will fight to save you from yourself."

Her fierce words caught Solas on the raw. Something unknown flashed in his eyes before he swiftly rolled them over, pinning her on her back beneath him, spreading her legs with the pressure of his thighs.

"If you dare,  _ma lath_ …" His lips captured hers, kissing her as if he'd never kiss again. And slowly entered her body with his. "…come and save me."

Ellana fused her mouth to his, wrapping her legs around his waist, hugging him so tight she didn't know where she began or he ended.

This was it.

The end.

They both knew it.

With their fateful, unavoidable parting looming on the horizon, it was as if each cell in her body was expanding in an effort to absorb every last ounce of him into her as he came into her like a sin-sick soul seeking redemption.

Later, when the sun was rising, Solas carefully withdrew from her body and rolled onto his back beside her on the bed, gathering her sweat-dampened body in his arms. Her leg was draped over both of his, her arm thrown across his chest, his wolf's jawbone hanging on the leather strap around her neck.  _To remember him by_ , he'd said when he'd secured it around her neck.

Solas' finger dragged across the back of her hand lying on top of his chest. "I will  _never_  forget you." They were quiet, quiet words lined with steel, like an unbreakable promise.

She said nothing. Her eyes looked so bleak in her pale face that they appeared haunted. They were not seeing much. They looked inwards, staring into the cold, dark recesses of her mind where pain, heartache, and bitterness were waiting to grab hold of her when reality returned to burst the little bubble of happiness they'd managed to create.

In the arms of the Dread Wolf, her people's greatest adversary, the Inquisitor slept with a broken heart. For she hated him but she also loved him and that was her problem—she loved, loved— _loved_  the Dread Wolf!

She dreamed he would turn around from the path he was set on. That in the morning he would sweep her off her feet, whispering softly in her ear, "I'll stay." Or that he would smile at her and say, "Come with me."

But it was only a dream.

The next day, another Breach into the Fade formed in the sky in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. By nightfall, Corypheus was dead, the orb was destroyed…

And Solas was gone.

That first night, Solas came to her in a dream.

In the dream, Ellana had found herself emerging from a dark forest to enter a small clearing among the trees. She strode down to where the springy turf grew on the edge of a riverbank. The river was wide and ran dark and silent. Tall oaks and willows lined the river like sentinels, big and brooding. A low ground mist enveloped everything in a soft skirt of billowing white.

A full moon hung just above the tops of the trees, blanching the color out of everything, surrounding her in eerie tones of black and grey, except for the river, where it formed slinky silver patterns on the silent mass as it moved at a slow and lazy pace. It so still and silent she could even hear the water softly lapping the pebbly ground at her feet.

She looked up to find Solas standing on the other side of the river. He was watching her sadly, staring at her with infinite longing, like a freezing man out in the snow watches the flames of a warm fire flicker and dance through a frosted windowpane.

Silver eyes glared murderously at him as, with a flick of her wrist, she sent a fireball crashing into the tree beside him, setting the wood on fire. The angry flames raced up the tree trunk, swallowing the bark and the leaves. She could hear the wood pop and crumble, as the fire chewed and devoured the tree. Flames and smoke hit the midnight sky as, in seeming slow motion, the big tree buckled near its roots and toppled over, crashing beside Solas, a few feet away, blasting him with a gush of air and reaching flames.

He didn't even notice, his eyes never once leaving hers, though she could see he'd received the silent message she had sent him.

The Inquisitor turned her back on him, not seeing the way Solas' proud head bowed, his shoulders slumping, as if a heavy weight of sorrow and despair rested atop them, before he vanished into nothing.

Solas never invaded her dreams again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a soundtrack: Is There Somewhere by Halsey. I love, love this song with this chapter.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Enaste dennar ma?: Can you forgive me for my sins?
> 
> Ma serannas: My thanks (Thank you).
> 
> Banal asha: No women
> 
> Ar lath ma: I love you
> 
> Bellanaris: For eternity
> 
> Ma lath: My love


	8. Epilogue

_Long ago, there were two clans of gods_

_The Creators looked after the People_

_The Forgotten Ones preyed upon them_

_And one god who was neither:_

_Fen'Harel_

_The Dread Wolf was clever_

_He could walk among both clans of gods without fear_

_For both believed he was one of them_

_He went to each side_

_Told them the other had forged a terrible weapon_

_A blade that would end the war_

_He told the Creators it was forged in the heavens_

_He told the Forgotten Ones it was hidden in the abyss_

_And when the gods went seeking it_

_He sealed them both in their realms forever_

_Now he alone is left in the world_

_Two Years Later_

_9:44 Dragon_

_Tevinter Imperium_

Surrounded by lush greenery in the middle of spring, the twenty-seven year old elf who had called herself Inquisitor, trekked through the deepest, most secluded woods in the Arlathan Forest on the isolated outskirts of the Tevinter Imperium.

The warm sun was disappearing now, setting the skies aflame with hues of amber and bronze with its last lingering light, casting an orange glow of sunset as dusk finally settled in.

She shooed off mosquitoes, gnats, and mayflies as she continued down the moss-covered trail that was lined with thick bushes of hazel and dogberry. The secluded forest was getting denser the further in she got, making it harder to stay on the faint trail that seemed to completely disappear at times. The canopy was so dense overhead that it blocked most of the dying light.

She stumbled a few times when the natural light began to disappear completely. There was a whistling of the wind as she lifted her left hand in front of her face and whispered a spell. A ball of flame leapt to life in the palm of her hand, right above the Mark. She whispered a word allowing the ball of fire in her palm to float forward, guiding her path.

After a long day of travelling dried mud crusted the hem of the black cloak she wore over an ice blue tunic with long-flowing sleeves, her legs molded in black leggings, her feet encased in black leather boots that almost reached her thighs. She was not tall, but she was incredibly slender and her lithe figure was toned from living life on the road. Hair the color of moonlight hung in thin, straight sheets to the middle of her back, setting off grey eyes that resembled polished gems of silverite.

When she came upon a small clearing in the thick, dense forest, she began sliding her pack off her back to make camp for the night. Ferns and moss and wildflowers grew around her in brilliant profusion in the glen, scenting the clear air with a perfume as heady as wine. The tall trees that lined the meadow were fully leafed, draped across the sky like a canopy. The towering oaks and pines sheltered her, the secluded hideaway in the foothills of the looming mountains acting as a momentary refuge, a guarded haven that kept her away from the enemies, friends, and nations that were relentlessly searching for her, had been searching for her for years now.

The underbrush rustled and crunched beneath her feet as she slowly moved towards the clearing and out from beneath the dense canopy of the forest. Her pace was slow and unhurried but with purpose as she approached a large oak tree at the back of the glen. Her gaze focused on the old oak tree. There was magic falling from the leaves. If she concentrated, she could hear the low hum of magical energy within the wizened trunk, sluggish with sweet sap that was thick with enchantment.

 _There it is_ , Ellana thought, relieved, thankful she wasn't heading in the wrong direction as she'd earlier worried.

She set her things down against the large oak tree before spreading a yellow quilt beneath its long branches. Ellana closed her eyes for a second; they were gritty with tiredness, every limb ached with exhaustion.

From one of her packs, Ellana dug out an unopened letter and a small package she'd recovered from one of her safe houses two weeks back. She sat down on the yellow quilt and opened the letter. She knew by the sharp, slanted writing that it was from Cassandra, who'd taken the role as leader of the Inquisition when Ellana had resigned from the position a few months after Solas had left Skyhold.

The letter was long, informing her that Leliana, Divine Victoria, had called an Exalted Council last month to determine the fate of the Inquisition. The Inquisition's advisors and her old companions had gathered together one last time to attend the negotiations held at the Winter Palace. The proceedings had been interrupted when a fully armed Qunari had been found dead in the palace.

Her eyes skimmed the rest of the letter that was meant to shock, but it only told Ellana what she already knew. Apparently the Inquisition was finally aware of Solas' true identity as well as his Eluvian network. They'd even managed to stumble upon Vir Dirthara and Viddasala's plan for a Qunari invasion of the south. They'd stopped the Qunari invasion, albeit with Solas' help. The Inquisition was disbanded now.

So, her advisors and companions had been surprised to find they'd all been deceived by the greatest trickster in history. Cassandra had been shocked at what Solas was planning. But Ellana already knew what Solas was capable of. She'd seen his obsession and ruthlessness, felt its ruinous effects on her own life. Wasn't that why she was here now?

Ellana opened the small package next that contained coin, potions, a tome, and other magical items as well as a letter. She opened the letter and her grey eyes brightened at the sight of Varric's perfect, loopy script. She laughed in a few places. She even smiled when he inquired as to her health, concerned about the Mark on her hand and whether it was killing her.

Ellana looked down at her left hand, wishing she could tell him that he didn't have to worry about the Anchor, that it was no longer killing her. But she couldn't. He'd want to know how that was possible and she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell anyone. She couldn't even respond to his letter. It was too dangerous.

Like Solas, she'd cut all ties, all connections. Cassandra and Varric were the only ones from the Inquisition that she was still in contact with, and even they only sent her letters to specifically designated areas. Members of Red Jenny then carried the letters to multiple locations to ensure they weren't tracked before ending up at one of her safe houses where she would collect them. Ellana wished she could write Cassandra and Varric back, even see them, but it was too risky.

She'd been running and hiding and looking over one shoulder for two years now. What was that old saying? Never let the Dread Wolf hear your steps. Never let the Dread Wolf catch your scent. No one could know where she was. No one could know what she was doing. Especially the Dread Wolf.

It had been over a year since she'd last stayed at an inn or rested indoors that wasn't one of her safe houses. She couldn't risk it. No one could be trusted. She was very careful, covering all her tracks. She was a ghost. She had to be. She knew things, even had something in her possession that every nation in Thedas would kill for, something that could even threaten an elven god. If any one, especially Fen'Harel, knew what she knew… if they had any idea…

Ellana fought the chill that crept down her spine at the thought and put the letters and the package away. Then she stood and set wards around her camp, carefully marking a circle with energies that would awaken her if anything approached. She wrinkled her nose. They always made the air smell funny.

Ellana then made quick work of a fire. She had caught a rabbit earlier in the day. She roasted it over the fire, taking her time and savoring the smoky meat with a slice of brown bread and a canteen of water. She sat in front of the fire and ate her dinner, the sounds of nature surrounding her and the smell of wood burning.

Once she'd finished eating she cleaned up before returning to her place in front of the fire, watching the flames lick at the wood, crackling and hissing. The moonlight shone through the heavily leafed branches of the old oak overhead. The fresh, forest air was heavy with the scent of embrium and resonant with the sound of crickets chirping. Smoke curled up from the fire until it was lost in a midnight sky littered with stars that glittered so close and clear she felt as if she could reach out and touch one.

The air held the slightest of chills. She called magic to the area of her camp to warm the slight chill away. In the distance she listened to the haunting cry of a lone wolf, sounding bleak and lonely, as if it was calling hopelessly for a mate.

It made her think of an elf, alone, with no friends, no family, no bonds, searching for his people.

She hated thinking of Solas, unless it was to try and predict his next move. But despite her best efforts, Solas had never been far from her thoughts. He was always there, just out of sight, like the memory of a dream lingering in her mind after a restless sleep. But nowadays she preferred to think of him as just Fen'Harel instead of Solas, seeing them as two completely different people.

In the last two years Fen'Harel had developed quite a following of elves that trailed after him with religious devotion. On her travels she'd heard elves whisper about the great Fen'Harel and how wise he was, how powerful, how dangerous. Ellana wanted to warn all those lovesick fools not to think of giving their hearts to the notorious Dread Wolf. For he would merely return it, bruised and battered, before his day of reckoning where he would let the whole world burn and everyone in it.

The lone wolf howled at the moon, and again his name whispered through her mind, muddling her thoughts with the familiar emotions that always seemed to manifest themselves whenever she thought of him—anger, betrayal, hatred. And beyond that was the ever-present inner pain that reached so deep within herself that it had become a permanent scar upon her heart.

Their love had been tried and certainly judged the day he'd left her, and found to be utterly wanting in both strength and substance.

Over him? she asked. No, she wasn't over him. She was still too angry, bitter and hungry to draw blood to be anywhere near getting over what Solas had done to her, the pain he'd inflicted on her.

She'd enjoyed two years of long, hard, festering about what should have been. And in that time bitterness had turned her view of men so sour she hadn't been able to touch one since. Not to mention she was terrified on some level of getting close to anyone again. Terrified of the way one minute someone you loved could be there, and the next minute they could walk out on you forever.

In her new life, the essential thing was distancing herself from everything and everyone. As for her own sense of loneliness and isolation, well, she'd come to terms with that a long time ago.

What she'd had with Solas was gone now. Forever. Everything good and promising and hopeful was broken and destroyed. She'd begged him to choose her, to _want_ her above everything else, but he hadn't wanted to.

No matter how much she wished it, Ellana couldn't rewrite the past. It was set in stone, unshakeable and uncompromising. No, she couldn't change the past, but she could hate him for his decision to put her second when she'd always put him first.

Ellana shivered, and her knees came up, her arms wrapping round them, her white-blonde hair sliding in a silk curtain around her slender shoulders as she lowered her weary brow to rest it against her knees.

She closed her eyes and relegated Solas to the locked compartment in her mind where she preferred to keep him. She could obsess and obsess over how things had ended—what she'd done wrong or could have done differently—but there wasn't much of a point. It wasn't like it would change anything. So really, why worry? There was nothing between them anymore. Now he was simply the man who had hurt her once too often.

Ellana sighed as she leaned back on her hands to look up. Through the clouds, a half-moon shone dimly.

A yawn escaped her, but Ellana didn't want to sleep. Each night she feared it would be the night Solas came to her in the Fade while she slept. The thought of staying awake struck her. She had herbs that would keep her from dreaming most of the time, and wards that would do a good job of blocking her from the Fade when the herbs failed. She was desperate enough to use them, never wanting to ever see him again, even in the Fade.

The smell of the smoke from the fire suddenly changed to something sharp and old. Her eyes widened as the air around her became alight with sparkling ribbons of light. She sat completely still in the forest before the campfire, but everything around her seemed to glow faintly with the shimmering aura of the Fade.

For a space of thirty long, dreadful seconds, Ellana didn't move—didn't breathe—didn't function on any basic level. Then her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at the same time her blood turned to ice in her veins.

_Run!_

A warning voice screamed in her mind, her panic mounting, self-preservation instincts taking hold. But her limbs wouldn't obey. A disjointed, fragmented feeling of unreality kept her rigid, paralyzed, unable to do anything but strain her ears and listen, but it was hard to hear anything over the sound of her pulse pounding wildly in her ears.

"If you're here to kill me, you'll have to take a number and wait in line," Ellana said, not turning around, her senses acutely attuned to the dark and ominous presence at her back that felt more like the grim reaper coming to collect her soul.

"I know what you want," she continued when the figure said nothing, grey eyes fixed on the flames. "But I don't have it."

It was a lie, of sorts. She _did_ have it, just not here. And the figure behind her heard the lie and knew it as well.

"Yes, I know. I have it," she admitted, and then continued honestly. "But I don't have it with me right now."

The ensuing silence pulsed in her eardrums.

"I will not relinquish it to you," she clarified. Her upper lip curled with contempt. "Do you really think I'd subject myself to being used by you for a second time?"

Dead leaves crackled as the figure came closer behind her.

Ellana's every instinct jumped to high alert. Immediately she felt threatened.

The figure's presence felt like splinters of glass all over her skin. He couldn't be here. She'd always thought the sheer psychic force of her anger and hatred for him would keep him away from her for the rest of her life.

How did he find her? She couldn't have him here, not this man in his whole god-like entirety that she hated, and feared, with all her heart.

He is no god, she had to remind herself. He might have the name of one, might possess the kind of power and arrogance the old elvhen gods liked to wield, but inside he was as mortal as anyone. Flawed and proud, she concluded, a symptom of his essential detachment from this world, seeing himself as supreme above all others, his immoral means justifying his selfish and destructive ends.

Needing to stall him and come up with a plan of attack or retreat, Ellana forced herself to babble casually.

"So, I heard you helped the Inquisition stop a Qunari invasion last month. How very… _kind_ of you." She couldn't help but scoff at that. Did he think of himself as some sort of saint by giving this world a little bit more time to live before he destroyed it?

She heard the soft footfalls come to a stop far behind her, the tension even thicker now along with that ever-present crackle of electricity.

"I wonder when you had the time?" she continued, her tone clipped and unfriendly, her expression stony. "What with your raising an army of loyal elves ready to do your bidding, carry out your every command, ready to lay down their very lives for the great elven god Fen'Harel. Their _hero_ ," she derided with a sneer. "The infamous Dread Wolf, a god amidst lesser beings, mere mortals. The one who will restore the world of the elves."

The air was calm, but Ellana could feel the barely leashed energy emanating from the figure behind her in taut, humming waves.

"Tell me, are your devout worshipers aware that their god plans to sacrifice them, to let them burn in order to bring back Arlathan?" Burning resentment echoed in each word she spoke. "Do they know that they are helping you kill their mothers, brothers, and children to save some ancient skeletons? A race that had their time. But it ran out the moment they trusted Fen'Harel. Just like them, I too had once trusted Fen'Harel, and we were all of us betrayed."

The figure was agitated now. Ellana could sense that. But she didn't care. She let her mouth run, her mind racing to come up with an escape.

"The elves fight amongst themselves, separated and divided, impoverished outcasts that live either as nomads, second-class citizens in an alienage, or slaves. I'd wanted to use the Inquisition to change that, to help the elves come together and create a better future for my people." An unexpected laugh erupted from her, or more like an involuntary release of pent-up nerves. "Whereas you want to erase the last thousand years, as if it never happened, as if none of us had ever existed."

Every righteous bone in her body quivered. "The ancient elves had their time in history; now it is our time. Nothing is immortal. We all have to accept our fate. So you and the ancient elves can go stuff yourselves."

At that moment, to Ellana's utter dismay, a cry came from a little bundle of blankets—which turned into a familiar wail as a baby woke and demanded attention.

Panic swept through her. A terrible, terrible panic that filled her with a sickening horror that turned her flesh to ice.

Grey eyes shifted to the small basket made of pale straw and two handles that was sitting directly on the yellow quilt a few feet away beneath the oak tree.

The figure behind her fell into a dangerous stillness.

The tight ball of ice firmly lodged in her gut slowly spread out to every extremity. A tight constriction completely closed her throat with a spike of panic. She couldn't swallow. It physically hurt to take in each breathe as she tried to steady her growing panic with deep, calm breaths while the baby's cries hung in the air like a concrete block, about to slam to the ground and rattle her to the bones.

Pulling herself together as best she could, Ellana stood and moved swiftly to the oak tree, feeling the figure's gaze burn into her back with each step she took.

She bent over the little straw basket, the wolf's jawbone slipping free from beneath her tunic to hang loose from her neck over the carrier. She gazed upon the tiny body of a still sleepy little girl wearing a tiny sleeping gown made of white lace.

"Mamae!" The word was said with a squeal as the little girl stretched out two hopeful hands in the direction of her mother, clearly wanting to be lifted, her little body squirming with eagerness.

She rubbed her forehead and babbled something unintelligible as Ellana lifted her and settled her on her hip. She brushed back the little girl's soft, white-blonde hair from her little face. The girl's face was alive with the fun of pulling on her mother's hair as she began chirping away to herself. Her brilliant blue eyes were alight with warmth and laughter, and Ellana couldn't help but smile. Her daughter was always lively when she was tired, which she must be now since she'd only gotten to rest for an hour or two.

Ellana bent and kissed her forehead, nuzzling her. The little girl giggled and planted an enthusiastic kiss on Ellana's cheek, that loving kiss a balm to Ellana's fraying nerves. Her daughter was a happy little girl—rarely grouchy, invariably even-tempered and smiley. And for a few seconds she just immersed herself in enjoying her, tickling her tummy and murmuring little nothings, all the while devastatingly conscious of the figure's stunned and silent scrutiny at her back.

Ellana had only talked about Solas once to her daughter, though she was too young to remember it…

_"You are special, little one. So very special. Some people will want to hurt you because of it. I won't lie to you and tell you that we will always be safe and protected. What we will be, little one, is courageous, cautious, and clever, keeping our eyes open as we walk with the shadows." Ellana put her finger to_ _her daughter's_ _tiny fist, and the little starfish hand opened and closed around it, holding tight. "May the Dread Wolf never hear our steps. May the Dread Wolf never catch our scent."_

_"Woof,"_ _the little girl_ _attempted with a toothless smile._

_"Yes, wolf."_ _Ellana smiled as she ran her thumb over the little girl's pointed ears and she giggled and squirmed._ _"Fen'Harel. He's an elven god_ _—_ _the last of his kind. He's lived for hundreds and hundreds of years. The Dread Wolf."_

_"Woof,"_ _she_ _repeated,_ _clapping her little hands together_ _with childish glee and giggles._

Ellana was pulled from the memory when her daughter began determinedly tugging at the buttons of her tunic—hungry, sleepy and impatient.

"No, _emm'asha_ ," Ellana scolded, gently but firmly forestalling her search by disentangling her little fingers from her tunic. "Wait." And she kissed each of her little hands.

The little girl scowled at her and Ellana sent her a teasing scowl back, her silver eyes alight with love and amusement.

Keeping her back to the figure that had yet to move out of a shocked stupor, Ellana discreetly fed her daughter, who was soaking wet after her feed. Ellana changed her and stood with the little girl resting on her hip, knowing it wouldn't take her long to fall back asleep.

The little girl immediately gave a determined wriggle that Ellana knew better than to resist, and she had no choice but to put her down on her little feet and watch as she toddled, still tired after her interrupted sleep, over to the basket to retrieve her favorite stuffed animal that she was never without.

Ellana felt a sudden chill as a slight wind blew through the trees, causing a foreboding ripple in the air behind her. She felt the figure's stillness behind her like an electric charge to her spine.

"You must have questions," Ellana said thickly to the figure behind her, not turning around.

Silence filled the space between them, thick with tension, the figure cloaked with an eerie quietness that held an underlying edge.

"Telanadas," Ellana said in a quiet voice. "Her name is Telanadas. It means 'nothing is inevitable'."

At the sound of her name, the third member of their little trio toddled her way back over to her mother as fast as her little legs could take her, her large blue eyes cheerful beneath bouncing white-blonde curls.

So curious, so eager, so determined.

So Solas.

Telana pulled on Ellana's tights with a fever of impatience, making little grunting sounds of irritation.

Ellana bent over and hitched her daughter up on her hip. Telana let out a delighted shriek and Ellana hugged her close, gaining comfort from her warm little body.

Ellana could feel the figure's eyes burning into her back, through her clothes, like the fiery breath of a dragon. She could sense the figure's question and need for confirmation, though Ellana thought the answer was pretty obvious given Telana's age, sharp eyebrows, full mouth, the set of her pointed ears that gave her a wolfish look, and those azurite eyes that reminded her so much of Solas every time Ellana looked into them.

"Telana's fifteen-months-old," Ellana said, verifying the figure's suspicions, leaving no doubt as to who her father was.

The silence that came after that confession was long and brooding— _angry_. Accusing. As if she'd robbed him of something.

"What right do you have to be angry when it was you who left me?" Ellana reminded the figure, barely able to get the words out across the lump of incredulous, bitter resentment strangling her throat. "I found out four months after you left. That's why I resigned from being the Inquisitor. Despite what you think, I left Skyhold to find you. To tell you…" But they both knew how that search had ended.

"You made your choice. I wasn't it," she reminded him vehemently. "You chose to forfeit any right you had to be in my life. That extends to Telanadas' life as well."

The figure's broody anger was coming off in waves that sent crackles of electricity through the air. Ellana could even feel her skin tightening all over her body, as if those invisible currents were flowing over and through her. She could even feel her blood heating; it was pounding through her veins as if she had taken a shot of adrenalin.

Telana twisted fretfully on her hip, whimpering at the tension in the air, and Ellana splayed her hand out, caressing the whole of her daughter's back to soothe her. She marveled at how her hand spanned the entire expanse of her little torso, covering the entire width of it from shoulder to shoulder. It reminded her how tiny and delicate she was. She was so small. So unbelievably fragile. Breakable. It brought out every natural instinct in her to protect her.

Solas didn't know how special Telana was. Ellana was positive about that. No one knew. But if he ever found out what Telanadas could do…

Ellana swallowed nervously, a fierce wave of protectiveness sweeping over her. There was no question that Telana was the daughter of an ancient elven god. She could already cast more spells than the average mage. She also possessed magic Ellana had never seen before. Just this morning, when they'd rested under a tree, Telana had touched one of the tree's green leaves and said "blue", and in the blink of an eye the tree did what she said and it's leaves changed instantly from green to blue. Last month Telana scrapped her knee pretty badly and while she'd slumbered that night she'd entered a sort of _uthenara_ , drawing sustenance from the Fade itself to heal her wound _._

Telana also sang, but it wasn't normal singing. Ellana had never seen anything like it. She sang without words and the world shaped itself to her song. It was as if the Fade listened to her, obeyed her, the Veil stretching and shifting just for her. The only explanation Ellana had was that while she'd been pregnant Telana had absorbed some of the power of the Anchor and already carried some of Solas' own power. Telana could shape the Veil, even restore and create pieces of it without having to use the Anchor. That was at fifteen months old. Imagine what she could do in a year? In ten? That power made her very dangerous to Fen'Harel's plans to tear down the Veil.

Telana was not of Ellana's world, but of Fen'Harel's. Ellana feared how the people of this world would react to Telana's power, what they would do to her. As for Solas, Ellana knew he'd see Telana as a threat. He could be so hard with jagged lethal edges, cut from a ruthless cloth, willing to do immoral things to get what he wanted. Ellana would not take insane risks in the futile belief that Solas wouldn't harm Telana when Ellana wasn't so sure about that.

Ellana knew what she herself had once meant to Solas. But despite what he'd felt for her, he'd placed his mission first. She had no doubt that he would do the same to Telana. Their daughter was powerful and there was no denying the fact that she presented a danger to Fen'Harel and his plans. Ellana didn't think Solas would hurt Telana, but she also hadn't thought of Solas as someone who would tear down the Veil and let her and this world burn in the raw chaos.

She didn't trust him. He'd destroyed any trust she had for him a long time ago.

At that moment, Telana took her thumb out of her mouth and looked over Ellana's shoulder at the figure that stood behind them. Her little elfin face stared at the figure as if in wonder, and Ellana was wholly conscious of the fact that Solas would now be looking upon his own flesh and blood for the first time.

Telana lifted her doll she loved so much, inviting him to admire her favorite toy. It was a scruffy black wolf with six red eyes that Ellana had sewn on it.

"Teli's woof," Telana told him importantly, holding the doll out toward him.

The toy fell from her hand to the ground and she pointed her wet, little finger at him. "Woof."

Ellana faintly heard a sound, like that of a branch snapping. She felt the figure's presence come closer. Pulsing awareness flowed in the air between them like a magnetic vibration.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ellana watched as a pale, male hand appeared an inch away from her cheek, as long fingers handed the toy back to Telana who snatched it from him and hugged it to her chest, saying something unintelligible with all the confidence of having uttered a coherent word, now absorbed in her doll as opposed to the figure standing so close to them.

Ellana's reality sharpened. She could feel the figure's presence like a scar on her body. He was in her personal space after two long years, making it his own. The world was reduced to that space. She was aware of everything in vivid detail - how real he was, how close they were, the pull of tension between their bodies, the heat of him at her back, the subtle masculine scent entwined with magic, herbs, and thunderstorms…

Pain attacked Ellana from the oddest of places—her heart mainly, broken once and still not recovered. She had thought she was getting over him, and yet only minutes in his presence again made her realize there was still a place deep inside her that responded almost involuntarily when he was near. It was as if he had secretly planted a tiny fishhook in her chest all those years ago, and every time he came near her she felt its tiny but still-painful tug.

Memories flashed through her shameful head, recalling the good times. But the bad times would always overshadow those good times. The simple act of remembering those dark times was enough to kill anything she'd ever felt for him. She would never forgive or forget the pain he'd caused her, how he'd abandoned her, left her pregnant and alone to destroy this world and the people in it, including herself and their daughter.

Needing to put space between them, Ellana quickly moved away to settle Telana down in the basket for the night. Telana went straight to sleep. She curled herself up into her habitual ball with her padded bottom stuck up in the air and her small wolf doll tucked beneath her soft cheek.

Ellana knelt for a long time just staring down at her—crooning old elvhen words as she gently stroked her little girl's soft cheek. It was love she felt for this little girl—the real thing. The kind of love a person was willing to anything for. And unlike Solas, she would never walk away from Telana. She would always take care of her. Unlike him, she was going to put someone else first. She would never leave Telana like Solas had left her. She would never break her little girl's heart. She would never let someone else break it either.

The backs of Ellana's eyes stung with hot tears, which was so unlike her—after everything she'd been through she just didn't cry anymore. Crying did nothing but nourish self-pity and create a headache. She remembered her own pain and the mage's hushed tones the night she'd given birth to Telana. Even when she'd almost died in childbirth, she'd suffered the pain with a white-lipped, white-knuckled silence that so frightened the mage that she had threatened to leave the birth chamber.

Despite her best efforts, the view of her sleeping daughter went out of focus through eyes that slowly filled with tears. Her lonely, clanless, orphan heart bursting at finally having the one thing she'd always desired—a family. It may be small and broken, but the two of them were still a family.

 _And let no one try to separate them_ , Ellana thought on a savage wave of determination. _Let no one dare to threaten them._

Ellana rose to stand protectively in front of her sleeping daughter, a formidable force, keeping herself between the Dread Wolf and Telanadas. She couldn't think of him as Solas anymore. He was the Dread Wolf. The Dread Wolf wanted to let this world burn. Ellana wouldn't let that happen. Not when it meant her daughter would also burn. He'd taken her vallaslin, her innocence, her heart but he wouldn't take her daughter. She'd kill him first.

All the color immediately washed from her face as she thought about it… about actually killing him. Could she do it? Could she kill Solas? Her first love? The father of her child? Then again, how could she not if he threatened to kill her daughter?

The prospect dragged across her brain like a piece of broken glass.

Yes, she could kill him.

Making a fateful decision, uncomfortably aware that she was acting on blind protective instinct and panic but seeing no other alternative, Ellana went completely still, every muscle tense, ready for combat. Her right hand had discreetly tucked under her cloak where she kept her staff.

The figure behind her hummed with magical energy, electric and warm. Then there was a rush of raw power from the figure and, to Ellana's horror, he disarmed her wards, as if they were mere toys.

A cold worm of dread coiled in her belly. Those wards were the strongest she'd ever made them. They'd taken a great deal of power.

The figure behind her was putting out enough electric energy to electrocute. Effortlessly intimidating. It reminded her how he was just a stranger to her now, a very _dangerous_ stranger, one she couldn't trust with their lives.

Heart pounding as if injected with adrenaline, Ellana pulled her staff silently from her black cloak, the wood glittering as she listened carefully and waited for the attack, preparing to kill.

Ellana was distantly aware of the air shifting behind her and then a vague sense of warmth at her back. Her skin prickled, every hair on the back of her neck rising to attention. Her silver eyes fell half-mast as she drew upon the Fade before snapping open, glowing with bright, neon green light that filtered out of the corners of her eyes to rise up into the air, like thin columns of green smoke. Her left hand remained hidden in the sleeve of her cloak, curled into a fist to hide the betraying green light of the Mark as she summoned a power that could match an elven god.

Ellana felt something brush against her back and a fine tremor of response rippled through her whole body. She breathed harshly, her heartbeat hard and loud when she felt fingers begin to trail across her shoulder. Moving with heart-stopping slowness until they reached her neck, then slid sideways, combing her long silvery hair away from her nape.

The world went dark and disorientation took over. Shock rendered Ellana stiff under the onslaught of this unanticipated and confusing attack. What was he doing? Was this a new form of intimidation? If so, it was working. She felt sick, she felt dizzy—thought she might pass out at the clutch of emotion she was experiencing that felt like a tight band of tension wrapping around her ribcage.

Her breath hitched when she felt hot breath fan across the nape of her neck. He lingered there and then she heard his deep intake of breath and could feel the tip of his nose against the sensitive skin of her nape.

Ellana was stunned into immobility by the sheer audacity of his actions.

 _How dare he_ , she seethed silently. _How dare he touch her._

"You have no right…" She heard her voice shaking with a fierceness that literally burst from her. "No right to touch me now." She was vibrating all over with the force of her anger. It was like a tangible thing. "I _hate_ you."

She made to take a step forward when long, male fingers closed gently around the side of her throat, preventing her from moving away from him. Her breath seemed to burn in her throat and chest, as if she'd inhaled lungfuls of fire as his thumb slid to the other side of her throat, like a feral wolf clamping its jaws on the back of her neck.

For one panic-stricken moment, Ellana thought he might snap her neck. There was something infinitely frightening about his continued silence, about the dark energy radiating from him, the undeniable air of danger.

While he held her captive by the scruff of the neck, Ellana heard the faint rustling of his clothing as he shifted behind her. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears when he pressed the whole length of his body against the back of hers. Her heart floundered somewhere down deep inside her when the tips of his fingers shifted slightly to purposefully press against the rapidly increasing pulse at her neck. Her lungs stopped working when she felt hot air at her ear.

"Telanadas comes with me."

His voice… it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard. Aching and ethereal, it seemed to pull her toward a memory of nostalgic bliss that she had somehow lost—but that she would do anything to regain again. Anything at all…

But then the words sank in. Wild fear bit into her. All the color ran out of her face. A little noise of distress escaped her lips, which was swept away by the wind that rustled her hair and her cloak.

Rage began racing through her body like a fast-acting poison. Her body vibrated like a tuning fork with outrage, green light glowing in her eyes again, lethal magic pounding through her veins.

She made sure to enunciate properly. She was in the presence of an elven god, after all. "Over. My. Dead. Body."

His fingers tightened on the nape of her neck, his cultured, smooth as velvet voice dropping to a low growl that she felt against her spine more than heard.

"She comes with me." Lips, cold as snow, brushed her ear. "And so do you."

_To Be Continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Telanadas: Nothing is inevitable.
> 
> Emm'asha: My girl
> 
> Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Haunting by Halsey. This chapter was influenced by the book Dragon Age: The Masked Empire.
> 
> Thank you all for your support and for reading this story. I'm going to write a sequel to this story that will occur during the next game. Essentially, it will be a story following the events of the next game but with the Inquisitor and Telanadas being held by Solas. If you're interested, keep following this story and I'll post here when I have the next chapter. I love you all!


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